


Life Imitates Art

by Jeffwriter



Series: Sterek Castle series [1]
Category: Castle, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Castle, Alternate Universe - Crime, Alternate Universe - Human, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Policeman!Derek, Slow Build, writer!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 37,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2653373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeffwriter/pseuds/Jeffwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a best-selling mystery author with a bad case of writer's block. When he does a ride-along with Detective Derek Hale, Stiles learns that his books are being used as the basis for a series of crimes involving people from Beacon Hills. He has to team with Derek to save some old friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

# Chapter 1

 

There are worse things than writer’s block, and Stiles Stilinski, the best-selling mystery author of the _Howl_ series, had just met one of them. Detective Derek Hale stands in front of him, arms crossed over his defined chest looking like he wanted to kill Stiles.  The thick eye brows that sat atop those green eyes and the stubble that covered the bottom half of his face only add to the impression that he wants nothing to do with the situation. Stiles pauses for a moment, trying to decide how he would describe those eyes. Green with flecks of gold, multi-colored?

“Are you paying attention?” the detective asks, decidedly annoyed.

Stiles jerks up his head. He wouldn’t be sharing where his mind had gone to in those moments. No way, not ever. He takes a step closer to the desk and faces Derek. “Uh, sorry? Look I’m just asking to ride along for a few days. I’ve got this writer’s block, and I thought that if I saw some police in action. I could be inspired.”

Derek actually scoffs at him. “It would be easier if you went out and got drunk.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. His are not quite as impressive as the detectives, but he thinks it added to his persona. “Easier on who? I get these great ideas for a novel when I’m plastered, but when I sober up, I look at the notes and I can’t make heads or tails of them. So this seemed like a better way to go.”

"Just because Mayor Finstock thinks it’ll be a good idea, doesn’t mean anything. He thinks we’ve got a Detective Greenburg on staff, and we don’t, which gives you an idea of how much he knows. Since there’s no Greenburg, next on the list alphabetically is Hale." Derek grips the pen in his hand tighter because, really? Letting a writer tag along on  _dangerous_  investigations so he can be inspired to write a damned _book_? 

"Aw, come on, dude- detective. Will you stop with the glare?!” Stiles says in exasperation because it’s annoying but really scary. “Look, Detective Hale, my dad was a sheriff back home so I can actually help-“

Hale’s office reminds him a bit of his father’s office as sheriff. Glass walls, a door and a desk. This one is filled with manila folders, hundreds of them all strewn across every possible surface. Stiles thinks that the detective could likely use some help, if these are all open cases. Did they ever solve anything in this department?

"Being the sheriff’s kid and actually being a detective are two different things!"

“Not as much as you’d think,” Stiles says, remembering how he helped his father on multiple occasions. He’d passed along evidence, found clues, and even tagged along for an arrest or two.

 “Only in your imagination,” the detective says.

“Look, let me tag along for three days and if it’s too miserable after that, then we’ll call it quits and I’ll go find inspiration elsewhere.”

“I’ll drop you off at the bar of your choice. This is going to be worse than miserable.” Hale goes to shuffle some papers on his desk, but not before Stiles has a chance to see several of them.

They have to be different cases. The images stick with him. The first had been some jewelry dumped in a pile. That case has to be a robbery. The other photo is of a young woman, red lips and flowing blonde hair. Stiles couldn’t place her, but he’d seen her before somewhere. There is no getting around it. He’d seen her before. He pushes it out of his mind, trying to focus on Detective Hale, who is more than distracting enough.

Hale catches him staring at his hips and the gold badge attached to the belt around the trim waist. They make eye contact for a moment too long for Stile’s comfort. He gives the man a weak smile, trying to think of a way to save face.

“That file – that was Erica Reyes, wasn’t it? Why do you have a file on her?”

Hale makes a motion to tidy up the manila folders some more, apparently protective of his turf. Stiles doesn’t care. He wants to make some points with the detective, to show him that writers don’t just sit in rooms and type. “Do you know her?”

“We went to school together. It’s been a while, but yeah, I know her. Why is she in your folder? One of the thousands, I see.”

Hale decides to tidy up at this point, taking stacks of folders and sliding them into a drawer. Stiles notices that the folder with Erica in it is still on his desk. “Have you seen her lately?”

Stiles shrugs. “A year, maybe more. I saw her back in Beacon Hills the Christmas before last I think. Like I said, I went to school with her.”

“Did you know that she’s missing? She’s been gone a week now.”

Stiles pretends to go right and feints to the left, snatching the folder. He opens it and starts reading.

“You could have just asked for it,” Hale says, watching the author read.  Stiles has a hard time focusing, well even more than usual, while someone is watching him.

Stiles swallows hard. He hadn’t known her well, but he’d always liked Erica. She could be provocative, and what writer doesn’t need saucy characters for their books. He remembered that he’d based a character on her in his first novel. She’d been a victim in that novel. She’d disappeared and was later found dead. “A week, eh?” This discussion is feeling a bit like an interview of a suspect and less like the friendly chat of a ride-along.

The green-gold eyes bear down on him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“No—not—nothing,” Stiles says, feeling his arms flail around some as he tries to play it cool.

“So you missed the part where her stockings were on the bed and a broken rose was in the sink?”

Hale’s expression is blank, but Stiles knows he’d been busted. Who would have thought that Detective Derek Hale read the _Howl_ series?

“Yeah, I mean, no. I noticed, but what are the chances that someone borrowed from my books?”

“Pretty good in this case. I read the interview where you mentioned that you’d based the characters on people you knew from Beacon Hill. A girl you knew from Beacon Hill was kidnapped and the clues are close to those left in your story.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and tried not to think about the panic attack that was lurking on the edge of his consciousness. He is not about to look weak in front of this hulk of a man, this very well-built hulk of a man. “So wait, you knew this? When Finstock asked you to let me shadow you?”

Hale gives him a very small smile. “It was actually the mayor’s request that made me connect the kidnapping to your books.”

Stiles lets out his breath slowly. “Then you know how this ends?”

“I know how it ends in the book. I don’t know how it ends in real life. We have three days in which to solve this and get her back. We have time.”

Stiles looks at his watch, a Rolex that he’d received from his publisher after the first movie option was sold. Nothing had come of it, but the watch is still nice. “Today’s the 18th and she was kidnapped on the 12th.”

“Right. We have three days before she turned up dead in the book. She was strangled and dumped. I read the book.” Derek flushes a little as he admitted this.

Stiles grows impatient. Hale is missing the overall plotline of the book. “Then you’ll also recall that the next victim was based on Vernon Boyd, and he’s due to be kidnapped in a couple of hours, if he hasn’t been already.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles begins to realize that the situation is more dire than he first thought as he learns how closely the mysterious copycat is following his book.

Derek looks puzzled, which only irritates Stiles. “Let me guess. You had some beat cop read the book for you and summarize it so you didn’t’ have to read a book, is that it?”

Stiles is tired of the people around him who pride themselves on not reading a book. Stiles had threatened Scott with dismemberment before his friend had picked up the book and read it. He’d actually liked it, though he’d missed the deeper themes because Scott had been too concerned with which character was based on him.

Derek’s face grows red, which only serves as confirmation of what he suspected. If he didn’t want this to end ugly, Stiles would need to take a firm hand in this investigation. He tries to remember the exact details of the plotline, but he can’t. Stiles is a bit embarrassed, but it’s been three books ago, two book tours, a few hundred news shows and some other writing pieces since he’d had anything to do with his first novel.

“So here’s what you need to look for,” Stiles began. “You need to find the ATM she was at when she was kidnapped. It should be fairly close to where she lived, but not too obvious. In the book, they did a search of a mile from the character’s place.” Stiles is secretly pleased he can remember this much of the novel.

Detective Hale looks flustered. “She was kidnapped at home.”

“That’s what this guy wants you to think. No signs of a forced entry, time to get a rose and break it, those things take time. He, and if this follows the book you’re looking for a he, snatched her at an ATM, took her keys after he’d secured her, and did those things to taunt the police. It took  the police several chapters to figure that out.” Stiles stopped, contemplating an idea.

Detective Hale was actually listening and taking notes. He stops the process. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, I’m wondering if by telling you all of this now, I’m messing with the space-time continuum of the book. I don’t want to make things any worse for Erica than they already are.” He furrowed his brows, trying to think of how he could test this out.

One of those unbelievably thick eyebrows went up a good two inches. “What?”

“Space-time continuum. It’s the theory that by messing with events which progress in a linear fashion, you don’t know what changes to the sequence will occur later in the sequence. It’s Einstein, and Dr. Who and Marty McFly stuff.” Stiles looks at Detective Hale’s face and groans. “You don’t read mysteries and you don’t know the basics of science fiction. Please for all that is holy do not tell me that you read literary fiction where there is absolutely no plot and it’s just characters emoting constantly – all over everything.”  Stiles stops for a breath.

Detective Hale looked thoroughly confused. “I don’t read much.”

“Yes, and you don’t watch much TV either. What do you do at home? Just sit and brood or maybe wash those eyebrows?” Derek frowns at the comment.

“Usually I’m too busy working on the cold cases to do any of those things.” He looks down at the floor as if he’d said more than he’d meant to. Stiles can’t figure out how because he hasn’t said much at all.

Stiles stops for a moment. “Well, I’m sure that Mrs. Hale keeps the home fires roaring.” Stiles is sure that someone of Derek’s hotness must be taken as well as having a wait list in case the current relationship doesn’t work out. Even with his lack of personality, there’s still no way that he’s not married with lots of children.

“There’s no Mrs. Hale except my mother, and she’s been dead for nearly a decade now.” Derek has a look on his face that Stiles can easily read. He recognizes the pain of losing a parent too young. He knows it well from his own mirror.

“Sorry to hear that,” Stiles offers. “Anyway, back to my point. If I’m telling you that our guy swiped Erica from an ATM, that happened in Chapter 11, or so. I’ve walked into about Chapter 3. Now I’m mixing two separate events in the book, so I don’t know if Erica’s body will get dumped first or if Boyd will be gunned down sooner. See what I mean?” While Stiles thinks that he’s made his point, Detective Hale doesn’t look pleased at the two events that he’s listed as eventualities in the book.

“So what does Marty McFly do to fix Dr. Who?” Detective Hale asks. Stiles thinks he’s joking for a minute, but if he is, the detective hasn’t moved a muscle on his face. He certainly wouldn’t want to play poker with this one.

Stiles can’t resist. “Marty kind of wings it, but Doc typically can anticipate any types of changes that would affect the future. The Doctor has a screwdriver and is just awesome. All of those other movies just wing it. I think that’s what we’re going to have to do.”

Detective Hale does not seem impressed. “So what’s the next big event in the book? Assuming we’re in Chapter 3, and not in that continuum.”

Stiles racks his memory, trying to recall what happened in between the kidnapping and the murder. The detective in the case had received a few threatening letters, taunting him for the crime he couldn’t solve in his past and his inability to save the Erica character. There was an attempt on the detective’s life and possibly a romantic scene that his publisher had insisted upon. Stiles flushes when he thinks about writing a sex scene. It’s definitely not a part of this case.

The interesting thing to Stiles is that even though he’s in the reality-version of this case, the fictional version doesn’t have a Stiles equivalent. He wonders if that makes him invincible or expendable to the killer.

“Have you received any letters lately? Taunting you about this case – or something in your past?” Stiles stumbles a bit over the words, because it seems a little like he’s fishing for information about Detective Hale.

“Letters? What about a poison pen note? Something like that?” Hale looks a bit shocked like perhaps Stiles is on to something.

“Could be,” Stiles shrugs. He wonders how closely the mysterious perp is going to follow the book. If he was the kidnapper, he’d follow the book to the letter, but not everyone was a stickler for details. “Any personal communications from an unknown source.”

“I’ve been getting emails lately. They’ve been anonymous and cruel. I just sent them to a lab tech yesterday to see if he could determine the sender.”

Stiles nods. “That sounds like the type of thing I’m looking for. Though in the book, they were snail mail letters and not electronic. Electronics always leads back to someone. Postal mail can be more anonymous. Can we talk to the lab tech?” He notices that Detective Hale still has not indicated what the notes were about. Stiles wonders what the topic could be. In the book, the detective had carried a torch for a girlfriend who had disappeared. The end of the book indicated that the girlfriend had been an early victim of the killer.

Derek stands and motions for Stiles to follow him. The pair go to the elevator. Detective Hale doesn’t speak the whole way to the lab, but when they get in the lab, Stiles sees a young, good-looking man who waves at insanely hot officer. Stiles bet that everyone here likely has a crush on the detective, at least until they get within speaking distance of him.

The tech pulls a book from a desk drawer and holds it beside Stiles’ face. “You’re Stiles Stilinkski. I can’t believe that you’re here working on a case. Is this for Howl Number Four?”

Stiles grimaces a little, thinking how the fourth installment was stalled on the second sentence of the book. “In a way. It’s looking like the person sending Detective Hale those emails might be related to the Reyes kidnapping, which appears to be based on my first novel.”

“I’m Danny Mahealani. This is so cool.”

Stiles smiles at him. He’s definitely good-looking and perhaps Stiles’ type in that nerdy way. If he wasn’t so concerned about the unauthorized use of his novel, Stiles might have shown some interest as well. However, Stiles is more concerned about the copycat than a good romp in the hay.

 “I loved _What Big Teeth You Have_. Definitely my favorite. I think there’s something about first times that intrigues me.” Stiles feels the heat of the tech’s calf rub against his own leg.

Stiles smiles. “I think that might have to do with the fact that the author has more time to work on the first book in a series. The pressure starts with the second book. You have to write that book while doing press tours and book signings. It takes a toll on you.”

“I bet it does, but you look like you’re man enough to take it.” Danny flashes him a smile.

Detective Hale does not appear to be amused. Stiles, ever the observer, hasn’t missed that Danny doesn’t bother to flirt with Hale. He wonders if it’s because Hale is straight or otherwise unavailable. “Can we talk about the emails?”

Danny clears his throat. “Right. The IP address is from a branch library across town. I’ve already requested any video surveillance at the library, and I’ve suggested to the patrol for that sector that they might want to station a patrolman undercover, just to watch what goes on there. I was going to call you when you showed up with the author.”

Stiles gives him another smile. How long exactly has it been since he got laid? Probably five months, certainly before the last book tour. He shoves down those thoughts and focuses on what Danny is saying. “The emails are internally consistent. They were likely written by the same person.”

Danny goes to hand the emails to Stiles for his opinion, but before he can read them properly, Detective Hale snatches them up. However, Stiles didn’t grow up the son of a sheriff for nothing. He has honed his ability to read upside and sideways without batting an eye or tilting the head.

The first one starts, “Too bad that the great detective Derek Hale can’t even solve his own mother’s murder…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and the suggestions and comments. They're all much appreciated. 
> 
> You can check out me at www.jeffreymarks.com to find out more about my other mysteries and my obsession with pop culture.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets down to business by reviewing the notes from his first novel. However, he learns more than he wanted about this case.

 

Stiles has a very bad, no good, rotten feeling in the pit of his stomach. The emails that he’d seen to Detective Hale had all indicated something about the detective’s mother. He has a doubt that burned inside of him. He wishes his memory was better, but it had been three novels ago. The details of the individual books tended to blend together after a while.

He drives home and practically sprints to his office. No one is here to see him run. He lives alone. He prefers it that way. He has the privacy to write and no one cares if he spent the whole night on Google trying to research a particular arcane thought about lividity.

However, tonight he wouldn’t need his computer. He dives into a filing cabinet, where he kept all of his notes on each novel. The very first thing he notices made him sick to his stomach. His notes have been tampered with. Another reason for living alone is that no one would ever mess up the system. He’d decided early on that his brain did not do things sequentially. Maybe it is his ADHD at work, or maybe it is just the way his brain worked. He chooses to file things by what he thinks of when he hears of a topic. So blood work might fall under the V’s for vampires and his clues sometimes are tucked away under Miss Scarlet or Professor Plum.

Yet here are his notes in a nice sequential order. That could only mean that someone had come in and looked at his notes. Given that a mysterious person is now using his books for a real-life kidnapping, he was freaking out about this.

He starts going through the notes for the first book, _What Big Teeth You Have_. Here are the notes on kidnapping Erica. He hadn’t really started out with Erica as a victim, but she’d pissed him off one time about a group assignment, so he thought he’d exact a little revenge on her by removing her from the book as soon as possible. The real-life scenario does not seem to follow that type of logic. It is a fairly literal script of what he’d written without any of the subtext or meta. That sounds very boring to Stiles. He lives for the unstated messages in his work. Nothing pleases him more than an email from a fan who caught what he was trying to say. It makes feel – connected to other people to have their thoughts run along the same less-traveled paths as his own. Stiles wouldn’t say that he’s lonely, but he has noticed that he misses the connection to other people and their lives at time.

So the kidnapping had come first in the story. Girl taken with a broken rose in the sink and stockings on the bed. He skimmed his notes trying to figure out why stockings. Did women even wear those things anymore? He didn’t know and didn’t much care, but it sounded sultry. The rose was to express a frustrated romance, which was the first real clue in the story. He remembers that he’d filed this under Seal for the song about a Rose.

So then what had happened after that? The detective in the case is introduced. Stiles had made him an impossibly handsome jock also from his hometown. The best looking guy at school, the funniest and happiest guy you’d ever want to meet. The one with all the friends and no one who could dislike him for more than ten minutes.

Stiles would rather have his fingernails pulled out one by one than admit it, but he’d had a crush on that guy in high school. So why not model his main character after someone he idealized? Dorothy Sayers had done it with Lord Peter Wimsey, and she’d sold millions. Of course, Agatha Christie had hated her detective and sold billions, but that was just quibbling.

And it is just Stiles’ luck that the impetus for his character, the guy who had adored in high school, is the very same man who had scowled at him at the station today, the man he’d be doing a ride-along with in the near future. Detective Derek Hale, who had not even recognized him today when he’d met him. Hale had needed a reminder that Stiles had even grown up in Beacon Hills. Stiles accepts that writers are outsiders who observe more than live sometimes, but really? Not even a “you look familiar”?

Stiles shrugs and goes back to work. After that the story goes into investigative mode. The police look into the last 48 hours of the kidnapping victim. In the piles of research that seemed to be useless, Stiles had tucked away another clue, one that would be vital in solving the case. He had loved the idea so much back then, but now he cursed it. That meant that Derek’s team would have to dig through Erica’s life in hopes of finding something that would lead them to the kidnapper. This would not be an easy task.

Stiles looks up and see the time. He decides to stop for a while to get a sandwich and a beer. It’s been a long day, and he figures that he deserves it. He checks the phone for messages and hears that Scott has called. He keeps the old-fashioned phone system in place; he rarely gives out his cell number and this system allows people to leave messages even when he’s holed up in the office. He decides to postpone calling Scott until after this task is done.

He finishes his meal, such as it is, and decides to finish off at least the next few chapters. He’s still fuzzy on a few of the upcoming events in the story. He remembers killing off the character based on Boyd, but that’s not until later in the book.

Stiles continues on and immediately winces. He now remembers the next scene.  Ugh, does he remember the next scene. He blushes as he reads it again. He’d written the scene five years ago, when he was still pondering his own sexuality. Stiles had set the scene in a gay bar, as the good-looking hero, who was certainly not Derek, went to the bar to track down a clue. A bartender at the bar flirts with the hero, but ultimately the clue leads nowhere. His editor had wanted Stiles to cut the scene from the book, but Stiles had maneuvered a few clues so that the scene became essential to the plot.

Of course, Stiles had needed to do his own research for verisimilitude, and well, a few blow jobs in the backroom later, he’d figured out his sexuality with no problems at all, thank you very much. How exactly was he going to tell the formidable Detective Hale that they had to visit a gay bar and find a bartender who might know Erica?

He sighs and decides that now is a good time to call Scott back. Stiles is hesitant to see what other gems he’s going to be reminded of in his first novel. “What’s up, Scottie boy?” Stiles asks when Scott answers.

He likes talking to Scott who misses the bigger picture of life at times, because he’s looking at the literal. “Stiles, where have you been? Have you seen the news?”

Stiles freezes, thinking of the kidnapping and the expected death of Vernon Boyd in a few days. What had happened? “I’ve been busy. What’s up?”

“Yeah, busy,” Scott replies, making his usual assumptions that living life meant you weren’t writing. Stiles has tried to explain to Scott that life begets fiction, but Scott thinks of it as goofing off. “Turn on Channel 8.”

Stiles hits the remote and waits for the picture in dread. He doesn’t want to see the real-life victims of his novel. If only his agent hadn’t pushed for such a high body count in the first book, this might be easier to take.

To his eternal relief, Stiles see Scott’s lopsided grin on the screen. He’s talking about a dog rescue organization and their upcoming gala to fund the rescue for another year. Scott even mentions that best-selling author Stiles Stilinski will be attending and signing copies of his books for the crowd. Stiles remembers promising Scott the favor, but now as he sees it on the news, he feels vulnerable as though he’s announced his plans to a potential killer or at the least an obsessive fan.

Stiles thinks about cancelling the event, but Scott is gushing about it again and Stiles knows that he can’t say no to his friend. He talks for another minute or so and then gets off the phone.

Now that he’s finished with the book research, Stiles feels restless. He knows that someone has been here, but he has no idea how long ago anyone was here. The list of people who could have had that much access to his place is fairly small. For all of his pent-up energy, Stiles has to keep his nose to the grindstone to pump out an action thriller every year.

He sits down at the computer, and almost before he knows it, Stiles is querying Derek Hale and the fire. Everyone in Beacon Hills heard of the Hale house fire. It had been big news. Three of the Hale children, Derek, Laura and Cora, who had been Stiles’ age, had made it out alive. Derek’s mother and uncle had perished in the fire, burned beyond recognition.

At one juncture, Derek had been the main suspect, but he’d been cleared. However, the case had never been solved. It was definitely arson. With a bit of prompting from an old Beacon Hills Press article, Stiles remembers the discussion of the accelerants used and the start of the fire. It had been set to kill, and it had succeeded.

Stiles wonders about the status of the investigation. Had it been dropped? Would it ever fall in the cold case files to be reexamined? Stiles wonders as well if a book where the major crime was arson would sell. Could this story break his writer’s block?

Stiles hears a rap at the door. He’s not expecting anyone, and he’s watched Misery too many times to be comfortable with flinging the door open. He switches screens on the computer and looks at the security camera. Detective Derek Hale is standing outside the door with a copy of _What Big Teeth You Have._

Stiles thinks about turning off the light and going to bed, but frankly Derek is doing him a solid by letting him ride along next week. He tries to talk himself out of it, but fails. He opens the door and says, “Detective Hale, to what do I owe the honor?”

Derek looked drained. He’s nothing like the popular kid from high school. He still looks the same, but the easygoing personality is gone, replaced by a sourness and general grumpiness that Stiles didn’t remember. Of course, to be fair personality was not what had caught Stiles’ eye at age 17.

“I’ve been reading this book, and I don’t like it.” Derek throws the book on the sofa and sits down.

“So you came all the way over here just to critique my writing? I didn’t think I needed a beta reader on the force.” Stiles has many quirks and peeves, but unrequested criticism of a work in general is at the top of the list.

“No, the writing is fine. I am thinking only of the ramifications of this book on our case.”

Stiles notices two things. First, Derek had called it “our” case, which likely meant that he was in. Secondly, he’d read carefully enough to have post-it flags marked as several places in the first few chapters. “Such as what?” Stiles asks, trying to play dumb. He doesn’t want to be the one to say out loud that Erica and Boyd are doomed if this plays out.

“You killed off Beacon Hills in this book. Issues in high school?” Derek sits up enough to watch Stiles reaction.

“Not at all. I just needed some names and character traits. It wasn’t supposed to be a memoir. It’s fiction – not real, you know?” Stiles feels the panic of what’s going on play around the edges of his psyche, but he tries to push it back. He doesn’t want to have an attack in front of Derek. He feels like enough of an idiot, having put these people in jeopardy.

“I know, but we’re going to pretend it’s real. So my team is working overtime. By six pm tomorrow, they should have a similar set of files to the ones you had done on the character. I was hoping that you’d have a chance to review them and see if anything jumps out at you. I know there’s a clue in the book at this juncture, so there may be in the files we produce as well.”

Stiles is both touched and embarrassed that Derek has read the book before. He likes the fact that Derek actually took the hours to live in Stiles’ world if only fictionally. It makes the slights from high school less painful. However, Derek is a smart enough man that he has to recognize the hero’s resemblance to a certain school jock. However, he doesn’t mention it.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ll be glad to. I’ll swing by and pick them up. Is that all?” Stiles asks, feeling suddenly tired. He’d love to invite Derek to stay over, but Stiles isn’t that bold and Derek isn’t that type.

“Yeah, well, no. The day after tomorrow, we’re going out to reenact the next scene of the book. We, er, I was hoping you’d go with us.” Derek’s face is blank, but the tips of his ears are flushed red.

Stiles thinks about making Derek articulate what he wants. “Sure, which one? I mean, this is a big town. It’s not like there’s one bar in town.”

Derek shrugs. “If we don’t come up with something better it’ll be a pub crawl. So eat appropriately.” With that, Derek stands and leaves. Stiles leans against the door and wonders what a night out at gay bars will feel like with Derek Hale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on schedule so far for a chapter a week, but we all know that I'll stumble at some point as holidays, work and my life, such as it is. 
> 
> Be sure to check me out on Tumblr (CaptainJeffreyMarks) or on my website www.jeffreymarks.com.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek reenact part of What Big Teeth You Have and learn about the mysterious man behind the copycat murders.

As a writer and lover of words, Stiles has to admit that he’s impressed with the plays on words that he sees on the list of bars in town. Granted, he’s been to most of them at one point or another, mostly to meet friends for a drink or a gathering. Yet seeing all of them together like, he’s charmed by the wit and general punniness of the names. Man Hole, for example, which was the first stop of the pub crawl.

Detective Hale had offered to drive them, and Stiles is fine with that, since not being the designated driver is always the best role in a night out. Though Stiles is slightly worried. He can’t be drinking too much as he needs his wits about him to look for clues and not make a total ass of himself in front of the steaming hotness that is Detective Hale.

Stiles looks around the club again. It’s dreary in its sameness to the vast majority of what he’s seen in his lifetime. Dark corners, cigarette burns on the tables, lots of men in the half-light. It’s not that Stiles doesn’t like being gay. He’s actually happy that he is; it’s just that the whole pursuit of a mate was daunting at times. Nights like this made him happy to be alone – where he could focus more on his next novel than his next lay.

Yet normally Stiles likes popping by a gay club to get his groove on, but he knows that tonight is not about a good shake of the booty. He’s here on the business of finding Erica and bringing her home alive. He’s upset by his complicity in the matter, and it’s affecting his view of the bar.

Apparently Derek actually spoke to him, and Stiles realizes that he’s missed the entire event, because more than five words out of Derek Hale is considered a miracle. Stiles thinks about trying to fake it, but decides to come clean. “Sorry, did you say something?” He puts a hand to his ear as if he’s having trouble hearing over the beat.

“Anything here strike you as odd? Something that we should investigate?”

Stiles ponders the responses he could give to this question. “No one has approached me and told me how phenomenally hot I am. That’s odd.”

Hale actually laughs, and Stiles grudgingly admits that it’s a nice sound. He wouldn’t mind hearing more of that, especially if they’re going to spend more time together. “If you’re not getting the play you want, maybe we should go to the next bar?” Derek checks his watch and holds it out for Stiles to view. It’s only a little after midnight, practically the early evening in club time.

“Sure why not?”

The process is repeated at the next bar, The Malebox. Stiles and Derek look around for anything that might be considered a clue. The problem is that Stiles had plotted the original book, so he knew where the clues led and what meant what. Now he has no idea what to look for, much less what it means.

In his book, the clues in the background led them to the bar. Now, it is Stiles knowledge of the book that leads them to the bar. He’s jumped a step, but he knows that real people are at stake here. Stiles had stayed up til nearly dawn last night, looking for something about Erica Reyes that would lead them to a particular bar. Nothing had come to light. He could spend another night or seven more nights and still not come up with anything.

In despair, he has a drink, cursing that he opted to use real people as the inspiration for his characters. He’s feeling authorial in a way, since he’s here because of his books. So he opts for a Manhattan. He figures that most of the major publishers are there, and he’ll drink a beverage named after their home.

Big mistake. The first one burns down his throat. The second goes down much smoother, but he knows he’s lost his edge. He feels much more benevolent to the world. Derek Hale is still stuck on his sparkling water, probably his fifth glass this evening. He doesn’t care. He’s long past worrying about Derek. He’s more concerned about his part in this kidnapping.

Derek indicates that it’s time to go, and Stiles leaves the last of the Manhattan on the table. They went to the Sausage Factory and White Swallow. Derek didn’t seem to notice the horrific plays on words, but Stiles had to stop himself from snickering like a teenager at times.

The next stop was the rather lamely named The Jungle, which seemed to follow the trends of the other bars. The music was definitely house music, and Stiles found himself tapping his foot to the music, but not wanting to put his dancing on in front of the detective.

Still there are the dark corners and furtive faces. Maybe all the bars are like this, or maybe it’s just because Stiles is feeling that way because of his involvement with this case. He can’t be sure.

Until suddenly he is sure. Waiting at the bar, he sees a young woman who reminds him of someone else. Stiles wracks his brain for the answer until he sees that Detective Hale was made the same connection. Then he knows. There’s a drag queen behind the bar made up to look like Erica Reyes.

The audacity of the move dries out his mouth until he can’t speak. He can’t think. He can only react. Stiles approaches the bar to engage the bartender. She turns to face him, and she knows. She knows who he is and why he’s here. Stiles feels like his actions have been pre-ordained here.

Derek stays back, watching and listening. Stiles knows that Derek would do his best to ensure that nothing physical happens to him, but the cuts can be internal as well as external. The drag queen slides a dirty martini towards Stiles. “On the house,” she says in a falsetto. “My treat.”

As he reaches for the drink wondering if it’s safe to drink, she slides an envelope into his hand. She covers his one hand with both of hers, engulfing it inside large palms. Stiles pulls back instinctively with the envelope still stuck between two fingers.

Derek guides him to a tall table with only two chairs. Derek slides his chair closer to Stiles, and puts an arm around him. Stiles can feel the heat of the policeman’s skin against the back of his neck, but he wonders if it’s just because he feels numb from the shock of the encounter. He’d lived an actual moment from one of his own books. Granted, the details are changed, but the scene is close enough to send shivers down his spine. Someone is orchestrating these moves closely, much too closely. How much time would go into these elaborate scenarios? They are playing a game against an opponent who was methodical and very organized. Stiles, who knows his own faults, recognizes that organization is not a strength. He was never the kid to finish a report three days early. He was up until dawn the day it was due.

He holds out the envelope to Derek. He is afraid of what he might find there. In the book, the killer had sent one of the Erica character’s fingers to the detective. Stiles has not had enough to drink to make him want to see a finger.

Derek, either because he’s made of stronger stuff or because he still hasn’t read the book, opens the envelope casually and removes the contents. It’s a photo, just a photo. Stiles breathes a huge sigh of relief. He had expected body parts.

Derek turns the photo over in his hand, like a playing card, and Stiles can see it’s a photo of two hands. He focuses his eyes, and his mouth goes dry again. Forgetting the source of the martini, he takes the entire drink in one long gulp.

“What the hell was that for?” Derek asks, still examining the photo.

“It’s me,” Stiles says, knowing that it’s improper grammar even as he speaks. “That hand is mine, and that book is _What Big Teeth You Have_. I’m signing the book, and I can only guess that the other hand is whoever is behind this. That means that I’ve met this person at least once and at the time of the meeting they had at least the idea that this would be occurring. I was played for an idiot by this guy, and I have no idea who he is.”

Detective Hale studies the photo and pretends to hold Stiles’ hand so he can look at the real thing as well. Stiles plays along and interlaces his fingers with Derek’s just for verisimilitude. Stiles sighs and thinks he might as well play the part.

Derek twists the hand over in his own, and the move leaves Stiles feeling awkward. He’s not used to sitting with his arm spun nearly 270 degrees around. What was Hale thinking?

Finally, Stiles yanks his hand away and say, “What gives?”

“I’m just looking at your hand. How old would you say this photo is? Any ideas to pinpoint the place and time?” Derek’s gone back to his serious expression. There’s no smile, no laughter, nothing but work reflected in his face.

“At least two years old. Publishing typically does a hardcover a year, which means the first book in the series was out a few months before then. It’s a local venue, but I can’t name which one.”

“How do you know it’s local?” Derek asks, staring at the photo again.

Stiles shrugs. “I didn’t pack that shirt on my book tour. So had to be local. I did a crappy job packing for my first tour. Way too much underwear and too few shirts. I knew those shirts like nobody’s business by the time I was done.”

Derek nods. “What do you know about the photo itself?”

Stiles forces himself to look at it again. “It’s a guy’s hand, but I was already under that assumption. Copycats are not a huge category of criminals, but the profile for a copycat is typically male. The hand pretty much gives that away. Secondly, he’s not working alone. He has an accomplice and it’s most likely a woman.”

Derek looks at him again with the question in his eyes.

“It’s a woman because I didn’t get many gay couples coming to my booksignings. Not sure why – perhaps it’s my overwhelming sex appeal,” he says, pausing to see if Derek will comment. “Nearly all of the couples who came got pictures standing next to me. So the logical presumption is that he came with a woman.”

Derek starts to say something and then stop, which annoys Stiles, because he seems to be doing all the talking and giving away too many things about his own life. Hale has not even given him one fact all evening.

Over Derek’s shoulder, Stiles suddenly sees a familiar face and it’s not one that he had hoped to see tonight. Matt Daehler is standing near the bar, talking to the drag queen. Stiles knew Matt from high school, and Matt was one of the inspirations for Stiles’ homicidal spree killer in the second book in his series. Matt had been a little creeper on a mutual friend in high school, and Stiles had thought that payback would be karma.

It couldn’t be coincidence that Matt was here tonight while they were searching for a kidnapper. Stiles hadn’t seen him in years. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know that he lived in town. In Matt’s defense, it didn’t make sense for him to be the killer, based on this photo. Matt had never shown up at a book signing, much less talked to Stiles there. “Matt,” Stiles says in a whisper.

Stiles starts to speak again, to spit words of explanation, but before he can say a word, Derek leans in and kisses Stiles on the mouth. In shock, he opens his mouth to speak. Before his brain can even register a though, Derek’s tongue is in his mouth. Their tongues brush together, and Stiles moans into Derek’s mouth. The mix of the alcohol, the fears and the fact that it’s been a good six months since he’s been laid push Stiles closer still to Derek. For the world to see, they would appear to be any couple.

The kiss ends as quickly as it began. Derek pulls his head away when they hear noises off to the left of them. Stiles turns around and through the dark sees a figure on the floor. Without being told, Stiles knows that Matt is dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out my other works at www.jeffreymarks.com
> 
> Let me know your ideas for what's to come -- I'm open.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Matt's death, Stiles learns more about what the kidnapper is planning to do.

Stiles has been to enough crime scenes that the sight of a dead body on the floor is not all that upsetting to him. Granted he had known Matt, but the connection was tenuous at best. He hadn’t seen Matt since graduation. However, Stiles knows that it’s no coincidence that Matt was here tonight in the midst of their investigation into Erica’s disappearance. He’s tied to this mess in some manner. Stiles is old enough and entirely too jaded to not believe in coincidences any more.

Detective Hale goes into formal mode with the owners and the patrons. He cordons off the area with a feather boa, which Stiles has to give him credit for. The man can think on his feet and use the resources at hand to get the job done.

Stiles wonders if that’s what Derek was doing when they kissed. Had Derek, and yeah, he has to call him Derek when thinking about him that way, just used the resources at hand to mask their presence at the club? Or had there been something between them? Stiles had thought that he’d felt something in the kiss, but before he could be certain, the situation had changed. Derek became Detective Hale again, and Stiles became a distraction again.

Stiles knows that he didn’t really need this right now. He is supposed to be breaking through some writer’s block by doing a ride-along with the police. Instead, he is up to his neck in a kidnapping designed by his own overactive imagination. He is receiving clues from the drag queen bartenders and watching former schoolmates drop dead.

Speaking of which, Stiles decides to talk to the drag queen who is glumly sitting in a chair by the far wall. Tips would not be good tonight, since the police had sent the paying customers home – after getting their contact information. Presumably one of those people killed Matt tonight. The thought both scares and thrills Stiles. The puzzle of this should be able to be solved by his logical and inductive skills, but the danger of matching wits with someone who is not afraid to resort to violence is frightening.

“Hey, how are you?” Stiles says, pulling a chair over to the drag queen who still bears a strong likeness to Erica. He remembers that her stage name is Gay Apparel. “Miss Apparel, right? I’m Stiles Stilinski. I’m a –“

“I know who you are,” she says in a falsetto. “I gave you that photo tonight, remember? And what kind of name is that? And remember this is from someone named Gay Apparel.”

Stiles shrugs. “The real thing is a family name that most people can’t pronounce, so I went with a nickname. It works. Yeah, about that picture?”

Gay shakes her head. “I was offered good money to keep my mouth shut about that. He said you’d be asking me about it.”

“He?” Stiles picks up on the only clue he’s been given. The perpetrator is a man. That agrees with the photo of the hand he received, which was also male. He likes it when the clues line up that way.

“It seemed rude to say ‘it.’” Gay Apparel says. “Why do you care about some mystery man when you have Officer McHottie over there?”

Stiles sputters a little. “He’s not my officer. He’s just the liaison for the ride-along program I’m involved with.”

“Yeah, you expect me to spill all, when you don’t tell me a thing.  He was kissing you and kissing you good. If that’s part of the ride-along, sign me up.”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, if it was just that easy.”

Gay Apparel laughs with him. “Life is that easy. You just choose to make it hard. He kissed you because he likes you. You kissed him back because you like him too. Easy as pie. You need to get naked with him.”

“But –“ Stiles decides not to argue his social and emotional life with someone named after a Christmas song. “So the photo. How much did you get to do that?”

Gay Apparel smiles and taps a finger to her lips. “You certainly are persistent. Let’s see. What do I get for this information I pass on to you?”

Stiles pulls out a roll of bills, but Gay shakes her head. “Let’s make this fun. I get to see some Stiles’ skin for each piece of information that I tell you. I lay my soul bare, and you lay your skin bare. Seems like a good trade to me.”

Stiles mentally curses himself for getting into this situation. Why couldn’t he be more like his own protagonist who could have used a few martial arts moves to beat the information out of someone? Though in all honesty, Gay Apparel is only trying to lighten up a bad situation. Stiles looks over to Detective Hale, who is far too engrossed in talking to the ME to notice anything about Stiles.

“Sure, what the hell? Who gave you that photo tonight to give to me?”

Gay Apparel shrugs. “Didn’t get a name.” She wiggles a finger to show her expectation.

Stiles lifts the hem of his shirt about an inch, showing off some pale smooth skin. Gay Apparel is suddenly smiling, and it’s not a nice smile at all.

“Description?” Stiles realizes that this is going to be a bad game of Twenty Questions. He tries to dust out the last of the booze, so that he can play strategy in this game. He doesn’t want to run out of skin before he runs out of questions.

“Tall, dark, African-American dark, muscular.”

Stiles tugs up the other side of the shirt, exposing all of his abdomen at this point. He knows that Gay Apparel can see the happy trail. He’s been complimented on it before, and for a moment he gets lost in a fantasy of Derek licking his way down that trail. “Why were you supposed to do this? What reason was given?”

“Nice. You know that’s two questions, but I’ll answer. It was a joke from an old high school buddy. You’re a mystery writer of some sort, and he wanted you to see that he’d actually gotten a copy of your book. Supposed to be a practical joke or something.”

Stiles plays fair and lifts his shirt up to his chin. His entire chest shows now, and he moves to the side so that Derek can’t see him.

“Did you know Matt?” Stiles asks, knowing that the next questions would lead to him sliding his pants down a little. He has some decorum, so he has to make the next few questions count.

“Everyone here knew Matt. He practically lived at the bar. He liked to troll around and find out everyone’s secrets.”

Stiles knows that his question had been answered. He pops the button on his jeans and slides the waistband down slightly. His boxer briefs are still at regulation height, but the denim slips some. Gay Apparel is definitely wanting more, and Stiles plans on using that desire to get more information. He sighs, thinking how much easier this would be if he just had a badge to use. Maybe the mayor would give him an honorary one, so he could leave his pants up.

“Had he mentioned any particular secrets lately? Things that could have been big, gotten him into trouble?”

Gay Apparel taps a long nail to her lips for several seconds. “Maybe. I’m not trying to be coy here, but he said something strange tonight.”

Stiles waits. If the drag queen really wasn’t being coy, she will talk without any prompting from him.

“Matt said that he would never have suspected it. He said that Holmes would never have suspected it, and certainly that dumbass from high school would never suspect it, even if someone tattooed it on his ass.” Apparel squints at him. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

Stiles nods. He spins around and flashes a few inches of the aforementioned ass at the drag queen and turns back around to see Derek approaching. The shirt comes back down in a flail of arms and hands. He tries to look nonchalant as the detective approaches, but even he could feel that the attempt isn’t working.

“What’s going on over here?” Detective Hale asks, raising an eyebrow at Stiles.

“Just gathering a bit of information about the case,” Stiles says truthfully. “I had a question for you. I don’t suppose Vernon Boyd has put on a ton of weight in the past few years?”

Detective Hale opens his mouth, then shuts it, and then opens it again. “No, he’s still the same build that he was back when you knew him. What does that have to do with anything?”

Stiles explained the drag queen’s statement and the description of the muscular African American man who sounds suspiciously like Boyd.

“It could be anyone. Do you know how many men would fit that description?” Hale is obviously annoyed at Stiles’ lack of preparation and deductive reasoning.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles says matter-of-factly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hale repeats, squinting at him.

“No, because this case is based on my book. There’s only one character in _What Big Teeth You Have_ who fits the bill. And that’s Vernon Boyd. So it has to be him.”

Hale smirks. “Thank goodness for your lack of diversity. It will save us a lot of time in getting to the bottom of this.”

“Where is he now?” Stiles asks. “We need to find out why he gave Gay Apparel the photo of me.”

“He should be taking names of the patrons outside. Let’s go ask.”

Derek leads the way out of the club and into the parking lot. Stiles feels a small shiver as they go to the makeshift exit station. He looks around, but doesn’t see any sign of Boyd.

Derek is looking around too, and the urgency of the matter seems to hit him as he sprints from officer to officer asking the same questions about Boyd. No one has seen him in the last 20 minutes. He enlists two other men to help him, but in the end none of them can find any sign of the missing officer.

Stiles slumps up against a telephone pole and holds his head. “This is not good. This is not good,” he repeats to himself. In the book, Erica is kept alive for some time in an attempt to gain information from her. Boyd has no such information and his bullet-riddled body is dumped in approximately ten hours from now outside the protagonist’s house. Stiles has to assume that this will be his place, and he suddenly has no desire to ever go home again.

Derek comes up to where Stiles is standing and offers him a hand. He pulls the author up with no effort and looks him in the eyes. “It’s not good, is it?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Boyd only has a few hours before he’s going to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. The flu intervened this week, but I'm back at the keyboard again tonight. 
> 
> As always, feel free to leave comments. My website is: http://www.jeffreymarks.com


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Scott spend part of the night scouring for clues. Stiles gets more than he bargains for.

 

Stiles decides that Scott is a very good friend, after he brings Stiles three espressos and the biggest cup of coffee he’s ever seen from a Starbucks. It’s nearly 3am, but Scott had heard the stories on the news about Boyd and Erica. He knows how Stiles can be, and while he doesn’t exactly enable his friend, he does lend lots of emotional support.

“So what exactly are you going to do about this?” Scott asks. He’d picked up a coffee for himself, since apparently he is going to be up a while as well.

“I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here. There’s a copycat out there who is kidnapping the people I used as source material for my first novel. They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to recreate the events from the book.”

Scott shrugs. “Not much help there. I only got through the first few chapters before I fell asleep.”

Stiles gives him a small smile. “Thanks, Scottie. You eliminated yourself from suspicion. Now I just need to weed through the other 200 students we graduated with.”

He looks at the stack of research again. “Tell you what. Why don’t you look through the stack of materials on Erica again and see if you can find any link to Boyd or Matt or someone else in our class at BHHS? There has to be some clues to something in there.”

Scott eyes the stack suspiciously. “Why does there have to be something in there?”

“Because I wrote it that way. I couldn’t find any clues when I went through it earlier, but I was in a hurry and I didn’t have a clue what I was looking for. Now I’ve had two people who I went to high school with show up in this investigation. So there has to be a connection between all of these things.” Stiles feels the panic build in his chest. Someone is going to kill Boyd in a matter of hours if he doesn’t find a clue soon. He’s grateful again for Scott and the coffee, even though he’s sure that he couldn’t have slept anyway, knowing that the minutes were ticking off on Boyd’s life.

Scott nods and starts flipping through the papers in the foot-high stack. Stiles takes the photo he was given earlier and puts it face down on the scanner in his office. The image scans quickly, the light bar humming as it crosses the glass. In seconds, Stiles has the image up on his computer. At first glance, it looks identical to what he’d received from Gay Apparel. But he opens Photoshop (thank goodness for the art director at his publishing house) and enlarges the image. He works on the resolution and tries to focus the larger image to see more of the actual picture.

There are still two hands in the photo. They’re a bit blurred now, but they are still recognizable. Stiles starts at the upper left hand corner and begins to review each inch of the photo, looking for anything that could be considered a clue. The upper left appears to be several shelves of books. He tries to read some of the titles but can’t. They’re too indistinct to be legible. He moves the photo over and looks again. Now there are some people in the visible area, but there’s nothing about them that is recognizable.

He keeps working on the photo, trying to find something or someone to place the location or perhaps the date. It takes him almost an hour before he finds something that looks promising. The pen laying on the table is a promotional item. Stiles knows that it’s not one of his pens. They were black with a wolf printed on the side along with the title of the book. This pen has writing all down the one side. He enlarges the photo some more, but the resolution is not good enough to handle the increase in size. The image becomes pixelated and blurred.

Stiles reduces the size until the photo’s resolution improves. He tries to read the side of the pen. He can make out part of the logo, but not enough. “Scott, come here and look at this. What does this say?”

Scott comes over and glances at the photo for all of two seconds “Beacon Hills Books,” he responds without hesitation.

Stiles looks at his friend. “What? How?”

Scott holds up the pen he’s been using during his file search. “You gave me one when you dumped those folders on me.” Scott holds out the pen. Stiles snatches it up and examines it. He holds it next to the computer screen. Sure enough, they are the same style.

Stiles had almost forgotten about the signing at Beacon Hills Books. He hadn’t planned on doing any signings on his home turf. In part, he hadn’t been all that popular in high school, and he wasn’t all that keen on going back and having his former classmates take one last parting shot at him. It had been early in his career, and he hadn’t known if the Howl series would be successful or a bust. Secondly, he’d based several of the main characters on people he’d attended high school with. He really didn’t relish having them barge into a signing and start talking about libel.

Yet when he’d gone home to visit his dad, the bookstore had called him on the second day of his week off. They wanted to set up an event that week for the returning author. Stiles had reluctantly agreed to it, mostly to appease his father who still lived in the area and had friends there.

The signing had been anticlimactic in his opinion. The signing had a good turnout, and they’d sold close to 50 copies of the hardback edition of the book. A few people from high school had turned up, but not many. Of course, Lydia lived on the East Coast. Jackson lived in DC. He kept up with a few others on Facebook. However, he had few high school friends left.

Most of the crowd was made up of people his father knew and neighbors. He’d signed copies of the book for two hours and then left. Stiles tries to remember anyone who’d come in who might be related to this case. However, the memories just aren’t coming to him.

He continues with the photo, but nothing else comes to mind. The other hand is fairly standard. It’s definitely male, but that’s not much to go on. Stiles manages to chug another espresso when Scott calls his name.

“Look at this. I think this is a clue.” He points to two pages that he’s pulled from the pile of papers. Scott was apparently in the process of cross-referencing the information on Erica with that of Boyd and Matt. Stiles feels proud of his friend. He’s not sure that he would have thought to do the same.

Stiles studies both papers for a second, holding them next to a lamp to see better. He’s tired – no matter how many caffeine-laden drinks he manages to force down, this is still the second night in a row where he’s pulled a practical all-nighter. He hasn’t done this since his junior year of college when he’d had that writing workshop.

“What exactly am I looking at?” Stiles asks.

Scott points a finger at the first paper and then moves it to the other paper. “They both live at the same address. Erica and Boyd were living together.”

Stiles squints at the paper and then looks at Scott. “This has to be a clue, but I’ll be damned if I know what it means.”

Scott smiles and shrugs. Stiles is impressed with his friend’s mad research skills, but he wouldn’t count on him for an analysis of the data. That had always been Stiles’ role in the friendship.

Scott tries to be helpful. “It means that they were living together, probably romantically involved. It could very well mean that Boyd knew something about Erica’s disappearance that he hadn’t told the police investigators. He’d be in the best position to do that.”

Stiles sighs. “I’m going to have to call Detective Hale on this. He probably knows this already, but it could be important.”

Looking at his phone, Scott says, “Dude, it’s 4:30 in the morning. You can’t call him now. He’ll be pissed, and I don’t think I’d like to know what he’s like when he’s pissed.”

Stiles dials the number, ignoring Scott and hoping that his friend doesn’t notice that he’s got the number memorized. “One of his officers is missing. I doubt that he’ll be sleeping tonight. He’s probably out looking for him now.”

He punches the green button and the phone begins to ring. A woman answers, “Hello?”

Stiles stammers for a second and then says, “Is Detective Hale there, please?”

There’s a pause at the other end. “He’s in the shower at the moment. Can I tell him that you called?”

A shower? He definitely wasn’t at work if that were the case. He must be at home, and of course, he must have a serious commitment. Stiles feels slightly sick to his stomach and knows that it’s not from the espressos. He’d hoped that Derek Hale could be interested in him, but that’s not going to happen. He’s got a woman at home, waiting for him to get out of the shower.

“Yeah, tell him Stiles called. I think I’ve found something that might help with the investigation into Erica Reyes. I wanted to share it.”

“Oh, yes, the writer. Derek’s told me all about you.”

Stiles mumbled, “Yeah? Well, thanks,” and then he hangs up. The last part of the call made up his mind for him. He isn’t going to sit around and wait for Derek to finish his shower and time with his lady friend. He’s going to solve this case by himself. Screw Hale. If a date is out of the question here, then Stiles is going to go after the glory – by himself. He can solve this case and garner all the publicity he needs. A bump in sales would allow him an extra six months to write the next book in the series without worries.

Scott looks at his friend. “What’s up with you? You look like someone just kicked your dog.”

“Yeah, just about. C’mon.” Stiles grabs Scott by the collar and drags him out the door. They’re going to head to Erica’s apartment first and then make the two hour drive to Beacon Hills to visit with the bookstore. He ignores the call from Detective Hale, sliding his finger across the screen to ignore. There's only 5 more hours until Vernon Boyd is scheduled to die. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made it through Christmas and Boxing Day without missing a chapter. Hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. Not sure how long this will be at this point, but it's looking fairly full-length to me. 
> 
> You can always check me out at: http://www.jeffreymarks.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Scott uncover some clues which leads them to Erica and Boyd's apartment and later to Beacon Hills to talk to the bookstore owner. Of course, Derek is on the trail for clues as well and they cross paths.

“Stiles, this is not a good idea,” Scott says for about the fifth time. “You’re not the police, and you’re not the hero of your own book.”

Stiles suspects once again that Scott has not read any more of the _Howl_ series than those few chapters he’d mentioned. His use of vague references and indefinite pronouns always makes Stiles wonder, though he has to give Scott credit for trying so hard.

“Just be quiet. This will work out just fine,” Stiles said as he pulled a credit card from his wallet. He jams it between the door and frame, hearing a distinct click. He considers himself fortunate that Erica had lived in a dump like this, where security was a door that could be opened so easily. He slips on a pair of latex gloves and had another set to Scott. Now that he and Derek are no longer working together, he wants no reason for Derek to suspect him of any morally gray actions.

He opens the door and walks into the apartment. He does a preliminary walk-through, which confirms a few things right off the bat. There’s only one bedroom, so if Erica and Boyd both lived here, then they slept in the same bed. That confirms the idea that they were romantically involved. He also confirms that Erica is a first-rate slob. Papers and dishes are all over, and the apartment doesn’t appear to have been cleaned in weeks. Perhaps that was Boyd’s influence, living here by himself after Erica was taken.

Stiles tells Scott to start with the bathroom and bedroom and look for anything that could be considered a clue. “Why do I always have to be Freddy?” Scott complains.

Stiles gives him a grin. “Freddy’s the good-looking one. Think about it. Shaggy is stuck with the dog and is always being chased by the bad guys.”

Scott gives him a lop-sided grin and heads off to the bedroom.

Stiles starts with the stacks and files of papers on the coffee table. His first glance was right. These are police case files – quite a few of them. Stiles thinks that they’re going to be related to Erica, since they were living together, but he’s wrong. Several of them relate to various hit-and-run accidents in town. A few of them deal with burglaries, and a few of them detail the Hale murder.

Stiles does a double-take. This is not good. He can’t understand why Boyd would have these files. He knows for sure that Derek would never have sanctioned Boyd to take files that deal with such a personal case.

Since they’re not talking at the moment, Stiles decides to look through them, thinking that perhaps Boyd made notes or comments that would allow Stiles to understand the case further. He scans them first for notes, but he sees nothing.

So he settles back on the couch and begins to read: Talia Hale, age 48, victim of arson at the Hale home. Stiles remembers the fire vaguely. He is younger than Derek by a few years, but not much. His dad had actually worked the case, which might be one reason why Derek is antagonist to him now.

Derek’s mother had been found after a fire had consumed the house. Everyone else had made it out alive, either through the assistance of the fire department or through good luck. Derek had stayed late for a basketball practice with his cohort at the academy. His sister, Laura, had been at the movies with her father. The younger sister, Cora, had been at an overnight birthday party. Talia’s brother had been badly burned and was in a coma.

Suspicions for the fire had fallen on Talia’s brother, Peter, at first, but when the investigators learned that she’d been garroted before death, the picture changed. The fire was no longer questionable. It had been set to cover up the murder of Derek’s mother. It had been a ten day wonder in the small town of Beacon Hill, but no one had ever been charged with the crime. It was still an open investigation.

That still didn’t explain why Boyd had the records of these files. The files were the property of the Beacon Hills PD, not the local police. Boyd had either swiped them or had copies made, because it would be highly unlikely that Beacon Hills PD would have given them over willingly.

Stiles knows the sheriff who had taken the place of his father. He finds the number in his contacts and hit dial. He feels awkward calling Parrish, because just after his father had retired, he and Jordan had hooked up – repeatedly. It was soon obvious that it wasn’t going to work out, but he feels strange calling a former partner about someone he’d hoped would be would be a future partner, though this evening had shown him that he was wrong about that.

Sheriff Jordan Parrish answers the phone. Stiles explains what he wanted, and Jordan answers succinctly. There have been no requests for the copies of those files. If Boyd has them, he had the originals and had taken them illegally.

Stiles thanks Jordan for the information and hangs up. Scott is coming back into the living room. “They were definitely in a relationship. The trashcan is full of condoms. I am so glad for these rubber gloves,” he says with a shiver. “There were a few cards to each other in a drawer. That’s about it.”

Stiles shuffles through the stack of files. He decides to hit an all-night copy shop that’s not too far from here. Then he’ll drive down to Beacon Hills, return the originals, and talk to the bookstore owner. Scott wants to go with him, but Stiles knows he wants to get home to Allison, so he tells Scott that he’ll be seeing Jordan and gives him an eyebrow wiggle to let Scott know what might happen.

That’s enough to do it, and Scott agrees to go home. They stop at the copy shop. Stiles makes multiple sets of the police report and gives a set to Scott for safe-keeping. Another set goes in the trunk of the car, another set is mailed to Stiles’ home, and the last set goes in the backseat along with the originals. Stiles believes in keeping his papers in order.

The drive to Beacon Hills, though almost two hours, is uneventful. Stiles calls the bookstore owner, Isaac Lahey, and convinces him to meet him at the store. Even though it’s approaching midnight, he doesn’t seem to mind. Stiles assumes that Isaac must be single like he is. The time of day is not as important when you don’t have someone to go home to – like Derek apparently does.

Stiles drives by the police station on the way to the bookstore. He’s a little bit early, because he was liberal with the speed limit on the way down. Parrish isn’t there, but he drops the files off in the basket outside his door.

Having that done, he drives to the bookstore. He remembers the signings he’s had here. Stiles knows that those memories will only fuel his anxiety to plot and complete the latest book in the series, even though he doesn’t have a clue about how to start this one. He enjoys the interactions with the customers and readers who like his work. It’s one of the best parts of the job.

He slams on the brakes and nearly gives himself whiplash as a result. Flashing blue lights decorate the front of the bookstore. Stiles feels a knot in the pit of his stomach. He did this. He told Isaac to meet him here, and as a result, Isaac was hurt by some intruder. As if Boyd and Erica weren’t enough, now he has this non-canon attack on his hands as well.

Stiles realizes that he must look guilty as hell, stopped a few feet from the scene of a crime, so he pulls into the parking lot and gets out of the car.

He’s immediately met by Isaac. Stiles does a double-take before enveloping the man in a hug. “Thank God, you’re alive.”

Isaac looks at him like he’s gone mad. “Of course I am. No one wants to kill a bookstore owner. We’re not rich and we’re not glamorous.”

Stiles looks at him. “Then what’s this?”

Isaac looks at the flashing lights near the bookstore. “I came in about 40 minutes early. I thought I’d stock the shelves until you got here. I walked in the door, and there’s a dead body just inside the door. I called Parrish and now you know what I know.”

Stiles nods at him. He decides to approach the police and find out what’s going on. Parrish is standing just outside the door, talking to one of the officers. Stiles gives him a handshake, the best he can do with so many people around, and asks, “What’s up? Isaac said there’s a body inside.”

Parrish bites his bottom lip. “Yeah, Vernon Boyd. He’d been dead about an hour before Isaac called. You remember him from high school, right? He showed up in your first book.” At least it seems as if Parrish has read the book, which makes him a better friend than Scott.

“Yeah, the police have been looking into his disappearance. He and Erica Reyes have both been kidnapped.”

A voice that Stiles knows all too well booms from behind him. “I’m going to love hearing this. How exactly did you get here so fast when the ID hasn’t even gone out on the radio yet? It seems pretty suspicious that you are right at the scene of so many crimes.” Derek Hale is standing behind him as he turns around to look.

“I would have been happy to tell you all about it, if your girlfriend hadn’t answered the phone and said you were in the shower.”

Parrish seems to be repressing a grin at the bickering, which is really no fair  since he and Stiles had done the deed more times that he could count.

“Yeah, I’ve told her not to answer my work phone. What exactly did you find out?” Derek doesn’t seem fazed at all by the fact that he’d kissed Stiles while having a girlfriend. Apparently he’s something of a closet case, which Stiles avoids at all costs.

Stiles starts to explain but one of the other officers interrupts. “Can you move your car? We need to let another vehicle in.”

Stiles goes to move his car. He’s only half aware that Derek is beside him as he approaches the car. He’s still too upset by the fact that another event from his book has come to pass. He’s remembering the next chapter of the book, when Stiles introduced the major Macguffin of the book, a false clue that the hero chases for several chapters, and trying to think how that might fit into the current situation when he hears Derek say, “What the hell? What are you doing with these?”

Derek is looking at the police files that he’d copied earlier. Stiles starts to talk, but before he can say a word, Derek turns him, smashes him down hard against the hood, handcuffs him, and starts to read him his rights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So another chapter is done! 
> 
> As always, I hope you check out my website (http://www.jeffreymarks.com) and let me know what you think so far. 
> 
> This was supposed to be a relatively short AU, but I think for the new year, I've accepted that this is likely to be book-length, so hope you're in for a long ride here.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets the third degree from Derek about his involvement in this case and Boyd's murder. Stiles senses that investigating the files on the coffee table is going to be painful for Derek.

 

Derek stares at Stiles from across the table in the interrogation room. “What the hell were you doing with those files? Where did you get them and why did you have them?”

“I didn’t steal them if that’s what you’re implying. Someone else had them, and I made copies of them. I thought it telling that someone had bothered to pull the files.”

Derek growls and shoves the table towards Stiles as he stands. “I’m tired of all these indefinite pronouns. I want answers.”

Stiles is vaguely impressed that Derek knows his grammar. And when they are alone in a room together, Stiles can’t help but think of him as Derek. “Fine, if you want answers, here they are. I called you tonight to tell you what we’d discovered. Scott found that Boyd and Erica were living together. We went to their apartment, got in and looked around.”

“You broke police tape,” Derek asks. “Your dad was a sheriff. You know better.”

Stiles looks concerned. That’s not a good thing to do. “There was no tape there when we arrived. In fact, the door was easy to open.” Stiles thinks back to the scene and wonders if the door might have been easy to open because someone else had already beat them to the apartment. Had the other person taken something of value or left something to confuse the police? Stiles would admit to himself that he was worried about the Macguffin in his book.

“Go on,” Derek says between gritted teeth.

“There were a bunch of police files on the coffee table. Some hit-and-runs, some arsons, and the files on your mom’s death. I made copies of all of them. Either Boyd left them there because he had some reason to look at them, or the killer left them there to taunt us in some way. Why those files? Why there?” Even before he finishes, Stiles remembers the taunting note he’d read to Derek, asking about his mother’s death. This could easily be related, but the other files are a stumper. Why hit-and-runs?

“I’ll check the investigative reports from when they searched the apartment, but I’m pretty sure that they weren’t on the coffee table when we searched the place to begin with. We did that yesterday after Boyd disappeared.”

Stiles yawned and checked his watch. Technically, it had been two days ago that Boyd was taken, since it was well after midnight now. Fortunately, being a writer meant that you could keep strange hours, and Stiles makes great use of that benefit.

“So the killer put them there? Why?” Stiles asks.

Derek starts to say something and then stops. “This is my investigation and my interrogation. You’re supposed to answer questions, not ask them.”

Stiles shrugs, letting Derek know that he’s not afraid of him or this so-called interrogation. Derek needs him and his knowledge at this point. Stiles thinks ruefully that his knowledge is apparently all Derek is interested in. “So interrogate away. Do you have rubber hoses or matches or bamboo sticks for my finger nails? I keep my nails cut short. It helps with all the typing I do.”

Derek rolls his eyes, letting Stiles know that he’s not going to be charged with anything. “So that explains the files to some degree. How exactly did you end up in Beacon Hills? Did you decide to investigate my mother’s death and headed there in the middle of the night to look around?”

Stiles meets Derek’s gaze and doesn’t let it go for several seconds. Derek doesn’t seem bothered by it, and Stiles is confused. Why isn’t Derek upset that Stiles talked to his girlfriend? Why doesn’t he feel guilty for kissing Stiles if he’s already spoken for? He’s far more interested in that than the details of the murder.

Stiles starts thinking about a possible love interest for his protagonist. He’d always thought about her being a damsel in distress type, but what if she wasn’t? What if she was a sassy woman who came to her own conclusions and made her own deductions? More Velma than Daphne? Stiles mulled this over in his mind, thinking about the possibilities and what that would do to his plot? It would take some tweaking, but for the first time in several months, Stiles is thinking about a possible book in the series. He smiles to himself at the breakthrough.

Derek clears his throat, and Stiles looks up. Apparently, he’s missed part of the conversation, but he deems it less important than a new book in the series. Maybe he can put in a few scenes in Hawaii, so he can go there to do research.

Derek looks upset – almost aggrieved. “Why were you in Beacon Hills? There’s no way that you could have caught the call about Boyd’s death and made it there to see the body being removed. It’s not possible.”

Stiles explains the photo’s importance and how he’d seen the logo on the pencil. “We would have been there sooner except we stopped to make copies of those police files. I didn’t want anything to happen to those files. I wasn’t sure if they were originals or duplicates.”

“So you found out that Erica and Boyd were living together, went there, figured out that the pencil was from Beacon Hills Books and came here afterwards? That’s it?” Derek seems almost disappointed at the explanation of the magic trick.

“Yeah, I kept thinking that the photo had to tell us something, and when I blew it up, the pencil was the only piece of information that wasn’t clearly visible to the naked eye. So it had to be a clue. If we’d done this first –” Stiles pauses, thinking that Boyd might still be alive.

Derek seems to read his mind. “Don’t – you couldn’t have saved him. He’d been dead at least two hours before we got to the scene of the crime. It must have happened shortly after the store closed for the evening. You’d never have made it here in time.”

Stiles decides to come clean. Why not? Nothing is at stake here for him anymore. “Yeah, if I hadn’t gotten so pissed when your girlfriend answered the phone, I might have left a message. That would have saved hours, and it might have made a difference. I have to take ownership that my jealousy played a part in his death.”

Derek takes a deep breath, one that fills his lungs and makes his chest look even more impressive. “That’s the second time you’ve brought this up. She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my sister, and she should have identified herself.”

Stiles feels himself flush up to his ears. Suddenly again it matters, and he has professed a number of things that he would rather have kept to himself, including jealousy. He tries to remember his own exact words, but he can’t. He can’t think of anything other than the fact that Derek is not dating the woman who answered the phone.

Derek continues. “Frankly, I wouldn’t have driven down to Beacon Hills based on the fact that you saw a pencil. Now that I know the killer is playing games, I might, but before this, I would have expected a fairly routine murder case.”

“There’s nothing routine about this. The killer in the book is deliberately playing with the detective to get him off his game, so he makes mistakes. We have a killer who is not only doing that to you, but he’s also doing it to the writer of the book he’s copycatting. This is no ordinary person” Stiles decides that sticking to business is his best bet at this point. Ignore the personal, and stay with the professional.

“So what’s next? What are we supposed to do – according to this book of yours? The better question is what should we really be doing?” Derek sits down at the table across from Stiles. He puts his hands on the table, so that they’re only inches from Stiles’ hands. He could touch them if he wanted – and Stiles would be lying to say that he didn’t want to.

Stiles clears his throat. “The next thing that comes up in the book is that the police detective is thrown off course by a Macguffin.” Stiles looks at Derek, and can’t easily tell if he knows his films. “A Macguffin is a clue that seems to lead the characters to the right solution, but is really just a big red herring – a clue that is misleading. So I’m going to be on the lookout for that. Something that seems like a great clue but isn’t.”

Derek looks unimpressed. “I’ve seen Hitchcock. I know what a Macguffin is. The issue I have is that none of the protagonists ever say that they’re going off in search of one. They follow what seems to be the most logical course of action, and then find out at the end that it was a dead-end. It’s a matter of hindsight being fabulous.”

Stiles has a momentary vision of Derek curled up on the sofa with a bag of popcorn, watching a Hitchcock movie. He inserts himself into the picture before Derek’s voice brings him back to reality.

“Right now, we don’t have any clues that we can follow, regardless of whether or not they are the right ones or the wrong ones. So the entire discussion of Macguffins is beyond me.” Derek throws up his hands and stands up, looking like he might leave the room.

Stiles jumps in. “Not true at all. There were three sets of files on that coffee table last night. They were grouped by the type of crimes involved. One of them was hit-and-runs –” Stiles begins before he’s interrupted.

“And one is my mother’s death. No way in hell am I letting you near that.” Derek’s eyes are dark, and Stiles can’t read a thing from them.

“Maybe she’s the Macguffin. What could her death have to do with two kidnappings and a murder as a copycat crime? The point is that we do have clues, stacks of them. We just need to go through them and find out more.”

Derek looks down at Stiles. “The police detective in your book has a crime in his past. It’s actually very similar to what’s happening now. It fits perfectly with the copycat crimes.”

Stiles nods. He makes a mental note to get the files again from his father – that is if Derek confiscates the files from him today and learns about the other sets. He wants to see what’s in those files that Derek doesn’t want seen. “The clues that have counted in this case have been the ones that don’t match the book. The pencil in the photo was nowhere in the book. Yet it led me to the scene of the crime.”

Derek shakes his head. “The photo was in the book. It’s a matter of nuance.”

Stiles smiles at Derek’s grasp of the situation. “So the death of a relative is key to the book, but I don’t have those files stacked with other crimes. Same sort of situation again. Close to the book, but the real information might come from the things that weren’t in the book.”

Derek lets out a long sigh. He looks like he knows that he’s not going to win this. “You’re free to go,” he says. He opens the door to the interrogation room.

Stiles stands to leave. In order to get out of the room, he has to pass close to Derek, who is holding the door open with one arm. He’s not sure what to think here. Stiles can almost feel the heat radiate from Derek’s body as he slides past him. Surely his own desire has to show. He’s been up almost all night, and he’s too tired to mask his emotions at this point.

He puts his hand on Derek’s arm as he moves by and gives him a wan smile. This man has a lot of hurt inside of him, and Stiles suspects that having the detective investigate his own mother’s death might lead to some big problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week another chapter. I'm always open to hearing comments from people. 
> 
> You can read about my books and writing at: http://www.jeffreymarks.com. Check me out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being released from custody, Stiles drives back to Beacon Hills to collect clues and visit his father. He learns more about the Hale fire and the mysterious photo.

 

Stiles goes home to get some sleep as his first order of business. He’s been up all night two nights this week, and even though he still feels the strum of his energy when working on a case, he knows that he’s not as young as he used to. He can’t pull a week of all-nighters like he did in college.

When he awakes, Stiles knows what he wants to do first. He’d driven to Beacon Hills to talk to the bookstore owner, Isaac Lahey, but the discovery of Boyd’s body and his own arrest had not given him time to do so.

Today, he drives the two hour trip without Scott to talk to. He loves Scott like a brother, but it’s nice to have the solitude. He has several things to think over before talking to Isaac, and first on the list is what to think about Derek Hale, who apparently has a sister and not a girlfriend. He thinks about the closeness in the interrogation room and wonders if anyone else has ever been turned on by the proximity of Detective Hale. Probably hundreds of them, he thinks ruefully. The man is sex with a badge.

Stiles is so deep in thought that he almost misses the turn-off for Beacon Hills. He drives directly to the bookstore, and fortunately, Isaac is behind the counter when he walks in the door. The bell tinkles lightly and Isaac looks up and smiles at him. He’s wearing a scarf, which annoys Stiles even though the weather is perfect for it. “Stiles, how are you? This is your second trip here this week. Do you have a new book coming out?”

Stiles screws up his face. “Not really. I’ve been helping the police on Erica’s disappearance. All of this has a very odd likeness to _What Big Teeth You Have.”_

Isaac nods. “I was wondering if anyone else saw that. I mean, it’s almost hyper-paranoid to think that a real-life case could be mimicking a book – every crime has to match some book, right? But I remember your talk where you told people that Erica was the model for the character in your book who gets kidnapped.”

Stiles frowns. “I said that here?”

“Yeah, a few people in the audience kept trying to guess who all the characters in the book were. You admitted that about Erica and then you told them about Boyd as the policeman. You stopped there and wouldn’t tell anyone who the protagonist was based on but I’m pretty sure it was Derek.”

Stiles doesn’t comment. He’s thinking about the photo of the hand shaking his own at this very bookstore, a hand (well technically an ear) that would have heard all of the conversation about Boyd and Erica. The same ear that could have put a plan into motion easily since he was stupid enough to admit as much to the audience.

Stiles looks up, realizing that Isaac has been talking to him. “Yeah, you’ve seen what happens when I talk about the inspirations for my characters.” He pulls the photo from his jacket pocket and passes it to Isaac. “I know this is a long shot, but would you recognize the other hand in this photo. One of the hands is mine,” he says, pointing to the photo, “but I don’t recognize the other one.”

Isaac stares at the photo a few seconds, too many seconds in Stiles’ mind. Then he says, “I don’t think this is very funny. This is my hand. I always greet the authors with a handshake. Why is so little of us shown here? It’s just weird.”

Stiles tries to look at Isaac’s hand. The bookstore owner sighs and sticks out his hand next to the photo. He’s right, of course. Stiles can see the resemblance in the long slender fingers and the well-groomed nails (unlike his own, chewed on from too many deadlines.) Why would someone send a photo like this anyway? Just to remind Stiles of the fact that he’d talked about his influences for the characters. Did he need to be reminded of the fact that he’d used innocent people and now those people were caught up in a very sick game?

Stiles frowns. What exactly does this mean – or has he been following the wrong clue the entire time? It’s like “The Lady or the Tiger,” except he has multiple doors and only one will solve this case. Erica’s life might depend on him being right about his choice.

“Thanks for the information,” Stiles says finally, after an awkward silence. “I’ll see you soon.”

Isaac nods. “Let me know when the next book is finished and we’ll set something up. The people in town loved the last book in the series. Part of me wondered if that would be the last book of that series?”

Stiles smiles. “An author, like a magician, doesn’t tell you how it’s done. You’ll have to wait and see.” He walks out the door, thinking that he would need to wait and see as well, since he hasn’t a clue how to start the next book.

 

Since he’s in town, Stiles decides to stop by and see his dad. The house is still the same as he pulls into the driveway. His dad’s car is home, and Stiles bounds up the steps to knock on the door.

His dad opens the door, and without a word, pulls him into a big hug. Stiles isn’t sure what that’s all about, but he’s fine with a random hug from family. He waits it out until his dad eases up.

“How are you doing? I was just thinking of you,” says the former sheriff.

“I’ll bet. Did it have anything to do with the murder in town?” Stiles asks, wondering if his departure in the back of a police car had made the news.

“A little,” his dad laughs as they head to the living room. His dad takes a seat in the recliner and leans back. Stiles lands on the couch with a thump and leans back.

“I’m innocent, in case you were going to ask.”

His father shakes his head “No need to ask, but what the hell is going on? I turn on the news and Derek Hale is slamming you down against the cruiser and slapping cuffs on you.”

Stiles explains the entire situation to his dad. It’s nice to be able to talk to him, to let everything out, and know that his dad won’t judge him for it. He even shares his feelings of guilt over the whole matter, since the copycat started with his book.

When he’s finished, his dad says, “First, you know this is not your fault. You know, Agatha Christie wrote about thallium poisoning and some idiot went and used that on his family. She wasn’t responsible for that, any more than you are for this.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says, but there’s still a petty doubt about it in his mind. “So what do you think? What would you be doing?”

His father cleared his throat. “Well, if it was up to me, I’d start looking at the Beacon Hill connection. I mean, look at this so far. The characters are fictional version of people you went to high school with. The whole thing with the photo and Isaac. Then there’s the whole thing with Derek too.”

Stiles only vaguely remembers the Hale family from Beacon Hills. Derek’s sister, Cora, had been his age, but Derek and Laura had both been out of school before he got there as a freshman. His only interactions with Derek before that were seeing him pick up Cora in a black Camaro. Stiles chides himself. Why does he remember this about Derek? Why is the memory so vivid? “What exactly about Derek? I mean, I know his mother’s death, but that’s all.”

His father lets out a groan. “Stay away from Derek and the fire. That way lies madness – literally.”

Stiles furrows his brow. “What exactly happened? It’s not like I can ask Derek about it. I have the files. They were at Boyd’s apartment.”

“I know this is all going to fall on deaf ears, because you’ll do exactly what you want, but stay away from Derek and the fire. Read the files if you want. Talk to me, if you have to, but that’s it.”

Stiles looks into his father’s eyes. “What aren’t you telling me? I don’t know much about the fire at all.”

His father sighs. “You might as well hear it from me. When Derek was 22, he was just getting out of the academy. He’d moved to the city and had just started as beat cop. He got called home one day. Apparently someone had locked his mother into a closet in the family home and then set the place on fire. She died of smoke inhalation. Accelerant was used – pretty sloppily I might add – almost as if the killer wanted it to be known that it was murder.”

“Taunting the police or the family or someone else?”

His father shrugs. “Who knows? The crime was never solved. No one knew who had a grudge out for Talia Hale. She was respected and well-liked.”

“So what happened to Derek?” Stiles asks cautiously.

“This is where the story gets even worse. Derek starts investigating the case in his off-time, despite my warnings to stay away from it. Nights, weekends, personal time from work. He’s always here, and he’s always interviewing people and asking questions. He spent most of the money from his inheritance running lab tests and such. Of course, there’s always a tipping point. Derek was following up some clues on some girl that he’d dated. The scene got heated. She called the police and filed a restraining order. Derek had to take some time off work for counseling and therapy. From what I heard, he was close to cracking at the time. He was allowed to come back to the force, but only with the restriction that he not look into the case any further. I don’t know if he’s kept his end of the bargain, but he doesn’t come around here much these days.”

“Wow,” is all that Stiles can get out of his mouth.

“I know. Every cop can tell you cases that get under your skin, but we all know better than to investigate personal cases. No good can come of that.”

“Is that girl still in town?” Stiles asks. He wonders about Derek and girls. His interactions with him had been hot and erotic – maybe Derek liked both?

“Oh no, I’m not going to help you with this at all. If you want to find her, you can Google her. I won’t be a party to this.” His father mimes washing his hands of the matter.

Stiles lets the subject go. He stays for dinner and catches up with his dad and retirement. They make plans for his dad to come up to town to see him soon. Stiles figures that his dad is trying to occupy his mind so he’ll stay away from the Hale fire. He’s okay with that. It will be nice to see him, and Stiles can still look at the files any time he wants. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love to hear comments and suggestions about the story. Let me know. 
> 
> You can check out my other works at: http://www.jeffreymarks.com 
> 
> Thanks!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles begins reading the police files on the Hale fire and gets a surprise visitor.

Stiles feels a little guilty for reading the files on Derek’s mother’s murder behind the detective’s back. He’s read many a journal and diary for his own fiction, which always feels slightly voyeuristic to him. However, this isn’t the private thoughts of a long-dead person, but the intimate details of the killing of an acquaintance’s parent.

Stiles tries the word “friend” out in place of “acquaintance” in his thoughts, but even just to himself, he can’t make that leap. Derek, despite the kiss and the late night talks, is still far from a friend. Stiles feels that Derek is holding large sections of himself back from Stiles, and no, he’s not talking about what rests in Derek’s underwear – though that thought does make Stiles lose his focus for a few minutes.

He clears his throat and opens the first folder. This was the preliminary report from the first responders and the initial police findings. A family member, Cora, had called to report that the house was on fire. She’d been at a birthday party sleepover at the time, and she’d returned to find the house ablaze.

Stiles recalls Cora Hale from high school. He hadn’t interacted much with her, and therefore, when it came time to cast the first book in his series, she’d been left off the list of characters. Given what was happening, it might have been a good thing. He didn’t want to think that he’d added anything to Derek’s pain.

The EMTs had arrived with the fire trucks responding only seconds after the ambulance. Cora had to be sedated at the scene, and the friend who had hosted the party took Cora home with her again. Peter had been found in the foyer of the house. He’d been badly burned; the EMTs had managed to save him and they’d taken him to Beacon Hills Hospital. Stiles knows that Scott’s mom works there. He wonders if Scott could work his magic with his mother and get the files on Peter Hale. Was he still in a coma? Was he still at BHH? Stiles pulls out his phone, opens a Note App, and asks these questions.

The fire department had made contact with Laura and Derek who had been asked where they’d been and what alibis they’d had for the time of the murder. Stiles pauses for a second. Really? The first thing that they did was assume arson and start looking at those closest to the owners. Derek had been with a girlfriend at the time. She was willing to back him up. Laura had been watching a movie at a local theater – by herself. No alibi and no one who could put her in the audience at that time.

Stiles skims through the first few pages. They talked about the structure, the elimination of an electrical fire and the determination that it had been arson. Apparently kerosene had been used as an accelerant. Stiles is surprised. Does anyone still use kerosene? He writes that with the other questions. He’s sure that Derek has already cover this territory twice, but he wants to put a set of fresh eyes to this, eyes that are not quite so subjective.

The fire was quickly determined to be arson. The police are pulled in at this point. Almost like a good novel, the first report ends there, and Stiles has to find the next folder in sequential order. He finds it and begins to read. The police begin with the alibis for the family again. Laura is the only one without an alibi for the night – except for Peter, who all three children state was a devious yet ambitious brother. They examine Peter but find no traces of kerosene on him.

Laura is the main suspect for a time. Apparently it was around this time that Derek gets involved. Stiles can imagine Derek being angry that his sister is accused of the crime. Matricide is a crime that requires a certain personality type, and Laura, even from his scant recollections of her, doesn’t seem the type.

This folder includes a long interview with Derek, in which he’s warned about staying away from an active police investigation. He backs off for a time as the investigation continues. A witness comes forward to corroborate Laura’s alibi. He’d been sitting behind her during the film and remembered her beauty well. Stiles (as well as the investigators at the time) wonders if Derek had dredged up the witness, and how reliable that witness would really be. Derek was now actively tampering with the investigation, if Stiles’ hunch is correct.

He feels for the man as he see his own manic behavior and anxiety after his own mother’s death. He’d stayed up for nights at a time, reading up on his mother’s condition, and giving himself panic attacks when they mentioned a genetic predisposition for the children of such patients.

Stiles recognizes the same signs in Derek. The police expand the search, and in several places in the police report, they indicate that they have questioned suspects and witnesses after Derek Hale had been there already. Stiles isn’t sure from this account if Derek provided them with the leads or if both the police and Derek were following the same path at different speeds.

Suspicions start to fall on Derek’s girlfriend at the time, the one who had provided him with an alibi. Apparently as Derek’s obsession had grown, he’d ignored the woman until such time as they’d split. She’d called the police after that and reported that Derek had not been with her the night of the murder. He’d threatened to kill her if she hadn’t given him an alibi. She mentions a can of kerosene in Derek’s garage.

Stiles curses when the file stops, and he has to find the next installment. The can of kerosene had been in Derek’s garage, but the police quickly note that Derek’s fingerprints are not on it. No one fingerprints are on it, not even the person who would have sold the can to Derek or anyone else.

They traced back over the woman’s statement about the alibi. Two witnesses, both women Stiles notices, who were not involved with anyone in the case came forward and backed Derek’s alibi. He’d been with the girlfriend that night. The police begin to look more closely at the ex-girlfriend. However, Derek had once again beat them to the punch. He’d broken into the woman’s apartment, searching for clues. She’d come home, confronted him, and obtained a restraining order.

The order dampened the police’s enthusiasm for going after her now. They continued an investigation, toyed with the idea of charging her with some crime for trying to implicate Derek in his mother’s death, but the DA had squashed that idea. In the end, they didn’t have the evidence to show that she’d done anything more than lie to spite Derek for breaking up with her. This was the same time that Derek had been sent to counseling and ordered to clean up his act or quit.

Stiles hears a knock at the door. It’s nearly 11:30, and he can’t think of many people who would disturb him at this time of night. He’s properly trained her his friends to not come over unannounced. Scott had broken Stiles’ concentration during the reveal once too often.

Stiles slides all of the files under the sofa, and flips open one of the hit-and-run files. He throws it on top of his coffee table, adjusts it to look like he’d been reading it, and then heads to the door. He looks through the spyglass and see Derek Hales’ gorgeous face in profile.

He throws open the door. “Derek, Detective Hale, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Derek enters without a word. He brushes past Stiles, parts of his body touching the writer. He doesn’t seem to notice the sensation, but Stiles feels like it’s burning through his clothes and setting his soul on fire. Combined with the intimacy of reading about Derek’s life, Stiles feels his temperature rise. Does Derek even know what he does to people?

“What’s up?” Stiles asks, hoping to cover the lust he’s experiencing. His voice sounds husky, and he wonders if his face is flushed.

“I wanted to stop by and see if you’d made any headway with the files.” He shucks off his leather jacket and throws it on the sofa. He glances around, and his eyes light on the folders. He picks up the open folder and glances at it. “This is for an accident that Isaac Lahey was in. Do you think he’s involved in this?”

Stiles jumps and moves to look over Derek’s shoulder. “Maybe? I don’t know. I’m trying to get through these files and see if anything rings a bell. I noticed the file on Isaac, but it seems too obvious. I’m guessing that our real clue is more subtle. This is not a stupid person who is behind this.”

Derek grunts and then sits down on the sofa with the file. He picks up a stack and puts them on his lap. Stiles is actually jealous of manila file folders for a minute as he tries to get his emotions under control. Given that another make-out session is not likely now, Stiles picks up the stack of burglaries and arsons. He starts in on them.

About an hour later, Stiles looks up at Derek. “I’m starving. Do you want to order some pizza?”

Derek shrugs and throws another file on the coffee table in front of them. “I guess I could go for some.”

Stiles grins. “Just wasn’t sure if that was against your perfect physique regimen that you follow.” He picks up the phone and orders.

Derek is still looking at him when he hangs up. “You think I have a perfect physique?”

Stiles blushes, thinking that this is all that Derek took away from the conversation about food. “Well, yeah. Look in the mirror.”

Derek blushes a little and goes back to the files. Stiles has trouble focusing on the files again, but he almost makes it through the burglaries before the pizza arrives. The pizza is hot and Stiles serves it on two plates (the only two he owns.) He and Derek munch away as they continue with the file.

Stiles is on the last file, of course, when he discovers a burglary folder where the victim is Cora Hale and the officer assigned to the case is Jordan Parrish. He frowns as he reads the entire thing. It seems too coincidental to be true.

He hands the file over to Derek who glances at it. “I remember this. Cora had her apartment broken into. They stole the electronics and some cash. Not much to it.”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “Yet it’s here. In this stack. In Boyd’s and Erica’s apartment. In the case that you’re working. It’s not as obvious as Isaac, but come on, it’s certainly worth investigating.”

Stiles throws it on top of the file about Isaac. They don’t talk much as they finish the stacks. By the end, Stiles is skimming the reports quickly, looking for patterns in crimes or people involved. There’s not much, and again Stiles wonders why Boyd would have these in his apartment.

Both men reach for the last piece of pizza. Stiles looks embarrassed that his fingers brush over Derek’s hand. He can feel the immediate reaction of his own body to the touch. Derek looks at his hand and then at Stiles. He leans in close, so close that Stiles can smell the pepperoni on his breath.

“Stiles, please let me have the last piece,” Derek says with a grin. His lips are so close to Stiles’ own lips that they could meet with a movement of millimeters. Stiles is enraptured by Derek’s eyes, which are an ever changing kaleidoscope of brown, hazel and flecks of green. He swallows hard as the piece of pizza comes up between them. Derek allows it to run across Stiles’ lips, almost as tempting as Derek’s lips. Derek starts to lean in some more, but the phone rings. Stiles has to lean away to reach the phone.

He keep his gaze locked on Derek. “Don’t judge me for the landline. It’s easier to block calls that way.”

He picks it up and only listens for a few seconds. Then he hands it over to Derek who is busily chomping on that last pizza slice.

Derek says a few things and then offers the phone back to Stiles. “I have to go,” he says with sauce on his bottom lip. “They’ve found Erica.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can learn more about my other works at http://www.jeffreymarks.com
> 
> I always like to hear from people about the work or things in general.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles find Erica at the police station, but she isn't much help to them in terms of finding the kidnapper or Boyd's killer.

Stiles knows from the second that he heard it that she is alive. Derek’s voice holds a grim determination, but not the grief that he’d shown when Boyd was found dead. This has a certain level of relief in it.   
Stiles hasn’t let the singular pronoun in “I have to go” slow him down for a second. He follows Derek out of his apartment and waits patiently at the passenger door of the car. Derek starts to say something, but he chooses to shut his mouth and double-clicks the locks to let Stiles in.   
Neither one speaks in the car. Stiles doesn’t want to push his luck with his free ride, and Derek apparently is lost in thought. Stiles has no idea where they’re going but he hums and drums his fingers on the dash. Derek doesn’t say anything, which is rather surprising.   
They pull up in front of the police station. That’s another good sign. They would have gone to the morgue if she were dead. Derek gets out of the car, and to Stiles’ immense surprise, actually waits for his passenger to disembark. Stiles hurries to the station, and somehow manages to trip over his own foot. He flushes at the thought that Derek is watching him flail about.   
Stiles keeps pushing his luck, and it continues to hold. He walks with Derek into the station and into the detectives’ area.   
Stiles sees her immediately. Her hair is puffed out in odd places and her make-up has long since ceased to be attractive. She has a blanket around her, and she’s talking to one of the officers on the force here. Derek walks up and greets her. Stiles decides to stay back and watch.   
That’s a decision that he immediately regrets.   
“What the hell are you doing over there, Stilinski? Are you afraid to see what you’ve done?”  
Derek practically smirks at her words, but he doesn’t speak. Stiles is grateful for that.   
“And of course, you’d be with Derek. After all, he’s the entire basis for your detective hero, all the way down to those tight-fitting jeans. You might as well just admit that you’ve had a literary boner for him since high school.”  
Stiles blanches, not wanting to look up and see what everyone in the police station is doing. It’s if he’s been ripped open and exposed for the entire world to see. He can’t take the thought of that. He had become a writer, so that he could keep his feelings to himself.   
“I haven’t done anything,” he replies, not feeling sure of his words. It’s one thing to think of the ramifications of what he’s done in the abstract. It’s another to see them wrapped in a blanket and looking like hell.   
“Boyd is dead because of you. He died, because you put him in some stupid book.” She starts to weep, and one of the officers indicates that she needs to go to the hospital. Before she can speak again, they trundle her off to see the doctors.   
A younger officer comes up to speak to Derek. “She was dropped off at the station about half an hour ago. A black sedan drove up, didn’t stop, but just rolled her out of the passenger side of the car. We’ve pulled up the security footage, but we haven’t been able to learn anything from the car. The license plate had mud all over it, and the model emblem had been removed. So we have a late model black sedan.”  
Stiles looks at the officer. “Why is it always a black sedan? I mean, do you think it has something to do with how the bad guys always rode black horses in Westerns? I mean, it could be in keeping with that tradition. Or it could be more of the thing that thieves wear black to keep from being spotted.”   
He realizes that he’s rambling, but he can’t seem to help it at the minute. Erica’s accusations have him rattled. Boyd is dead because of his book – and him. The thought wells up inside of him, and he can feel a panic attack coming on. It’s fast and ruthless. Stiles runs from the room without saying anything. He spots a janitor’s closet, grabs the door which is fortunately unlocked, and slams it shut behind him.   
In the darkness, it feels a little better. He still can’t breathe, but his mind is clearer. Thousands of people have written books where they’ve used real people as models, and their books were not used as the model for a crime. Conan Doyle used Dr. Bell as a model for Sherlock Holmes, but no one shoved the good doctor off a Swiss mountain or set a huge hound upon him.   
No, it’s just his luck. His damn, stupid luck. He makes some money from the book and now people are trying to use it as a blueprint to getting away with murder.   
The silence and the thoughts in his head help him to slowly get his breathing back to normal. There’s a knock on the door, and Derek steps inside. The space is barely big enough for Stiles, much less Derek.   
“Are you okay? You left pretty fast.”  
Stiles gives him a sheepish grin. “Panic attack. I’ve had them when I get too stressed – ever since I was a kid.”  
Derek’s standing directly in front of him, looking into his eyes. “You mean, ever since your mother died.”  
Stiles licks his lips. Apparently this is analyze Stiles evening at the police station. “Yeah, since then. I usually have them under control, but seeing Erica like that – and hearing what she had to say – that just set me off. I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s happened because of the book and it’s freaking me out to be honest.”  
Derek squints and then stares at him. “Well, Erica is not dead, so that’s a huge difference from your book. I’d think you’d be much more freaked out if we’d found her dead in a ditch like in your book. My question is: why did the killer let her go?”  
Stiles gives it a moment. “I’m not sure. I’m guessing that the kidnapper hid his face, like he did in the book. So she’s not going to know who is behind the kidnapping. So we don’t have much to go on there. We have the car, if they can find out more about it – and possibly where she was held, if there’s anything that can be considered unique about that place.”  
“We’re not going to get much in the way of that tonight. She’s been taken to the hospital. They’re going to check her out. They’re going to likely keep her a day or two and watch for signs of shock. It sounds like a pretty intense captivity.”   
Stiles feels the warmth of Derek’s hand against his arm. He looks down and sees it as a sign of comfort. After all, they’ve both lost a parent, and they’ve both been tormented by this killer. He isn’t sure what he’s expected to do next. For a moment, Stiles wishes that he was just back in his office, pounding out the next book in his series. Life is easier when you can control all the characters.   
“So now what?” Stiles says, noticing that Derek’s hand hasn’t moved.   
“We get you home and we take a fresh look at this tomorrow. I doubt that Erica’s going to be much help. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that she’s free and not in danger, but I don’t think we’re going to get any leads out of her. So we have to go back to what we had.”  
Stiles gives him a small smile. “Thanks. It helps to have someone who’s on your side.”   
Derek leans in and looks into Stiles’ eyes. Their mouths are only millimeters away from each other. “You always have me on your side. Especially now that I know you have a literary boner for me.”  
Stiles rolls his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be living that down anytime soon.”   
Derek moves in for a kiss. “I hope not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've hit the 20k word mark, and I should be at the 1k hits mark this week. So I'll likely be putting out a celebratory chapter some time this week. This chapter is a little shorter, but it's a change of character and dynamics going forward. Definitely more to come. 
> 
> As always, I love to get comments -- and you can check out my other works at: http://www.jeffreymarks.com


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles follows through on his offer to help Scott with the book sale to help rescue dogs. Isaac stops by with some flirtation and some information.

 

Scott is beaming, but Stiles is still feeling uneasy. He knows he should be happy. Erica is safe. Derek seems somewhat interested in him. He’s at a book signing for his best friend and a cause that’s near and dear to Scott’s heart. Yet, Stiles knows this isn’t over. There’s no way that this can be over.

He stands up behind the 20-book stacks on the table. He’s feeling antsy. His ADHD, which typically doesn’t cause many problems, is bothering him today. He’s unfocused, watching everything at once and hearing all the conversations around him.

He wishes that he had some medicine here, but he’d never even thought that it would be an issue today. Not good, since he’s been thinking about a new book. Stiles is pumped about that, though it would mean that he won’t have any excuse to be around Derek. He’d only contacted the mayor about the ride-alongs to get new ideas. Now he’s got more than one idea for a new plotline.

The books sell fast. He has to give Scott credit. The event is well-organized and has tons of publicity. Scott had arranged for most of the authors here to donate the books at cost, which means that most of the money goes to the dog rescue organization.

Stiles has a few friendly faces stop by. He’s surprised to see Isaac here. It’s not exactly a quick drive from Beacon Hills to here, but Isaac is stocking up on some signed copies of various books. He’s got a modified dolly with him, stacked high with boxes of books. Wearing a scarf and light jacket, he looks like a sophisticated moving man.

“How are you doing?” Stiles asks. He hasn’t seen Isaac since the day they talked about the likenesses between his book and the kidnappings and murder. He’s looking good, and he gives Stiles a broad smile.

“I’m doing well. It looks like you’re doing good here.” Isaac eyes the dwindling copies of _What Big Teeth You Have_. “Looks like you might not be here all day.”

Stiles gives him a smile in return. “If I run out of books, I’ll help Scott out. This is a big deal for him, and he’s out to impress the boss. So an extra set of hands would be good.”

Isaac holds out his own hand. “Any more thoughts on why someone would give you a picture of my hand?” The hand moves across Stiles’ hand. It brushes across his fingers and runs a few inches up his arm. Stiles is pretty sure that he’s being hit on, but he’s not sure. For someone who spends the day in other people’s heads, he’s fairly oblivious to what real people mean when they throw out subtle hints.

“No idea.” Stiles moves his hand to grab a copy of the _What Big Teeth You Have_. “Want a signed copy?”

Isaac smiles and orders three copies. Stiles signs them and hands them across the table. Scott has set up a cashier’s table at the entrance so the individual authors don’t have to take money and make change. Stiles is glad of that, because he never has the right change and sometimes doesn’t have the right bills either.

Isaac takes the books, allowing his fingers to run across Stiles’ hand again. This time Stiles is pretty sure that this is a come-on. He’s a little surprised. While always immaculately well-dressed, Isaac has never expressed any interest in Stiles. He always seemed to give off a vibe of being annoyed with the author.

He’s okay with it. Nothing could happen here, so he really won’t need to make any awkward excuses. It’s just a little random flirting, and that’s fine in Stiles’ book. He needs booksellers and if they want to flirt, so be it.

Isaac turns to go when Stiles remembers the file on Boyd’s coffee table. “Isaac, I have a couple of questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

Isaac turns back. “About the book or --?”

Stiles stumbles over the words, trying to make it sound more like curiosity than an accusation of murder. “Well, when we went to look for Boyd, we found a series of police files, hit-and-runs, arsons, burglaries, and there was a file on you in the stack. I was just wondering if Boyd ever said anything to you about it?”

Isaac knits his brows. “What type of file was it? I mean, what was the crime?”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Do you have your own crime syndicate going on that you can’t remember all the police reports on you?”

Isaac sighs. The flirtation is obviously gone, and the mood of exasperation has returned. “Well, the store has been robbed twice. They tried to burn a business down the street from me. So it could be any number of things.”

Stiles nods. “It was about a hit-and-run. You were a witness?”

Isaac’s face shuts down. It’s as if a mask slipped over his features, blocking all emotion and express. Stiles has rarely seen anything so complete. “Yeah, I was a witness to a hit-and-run. What about it?”

“Could it be related to this case? You know, Erica’s disappearance and Boyd’s death. I’m trying to track anyone I know who was in the files of police reports.”

Isaac begins a monotone monologue. Stiles forces all of his energy and lack of focus into not saying a word. “I was in the backseat. My father was driving. My brother was in the passenger seat. We were driving on the highway between here and Beacon Hill. A woman walked out into the roadway about fifty feet in front of us. My dad slammed on the brakes. We still hit her, head-on. She flew about twenty feet before hand again the brick wall that stops mudslides. My brother went through the windshield.”

“Your brother was okay, wasn’t he?” Stiles is starting to remember the details of the case. The pictures of the crime scene were horrific.

“Eventually. He still has scars from it. He went through the glass and some of it caught him on the face.”

“And the girl?”

“Dead. She was killed instantly. Mangled pretty bad.”

“What was she doing on that hillside? I mean, you said that she ran out in front of you. Where did she come from?”

Isaac continues in his monotone. “No one ever found out. She was a teacher from BHHS, Ms. Blake. The police didn’t find her car or any mode of transportation. From what they could see, she’d just been plopped down in the woods and she took off running down the hill and on to the street. They never could pinpoint the origin of her footsteps.”

Stiles can definitely see that Isaac had had enough. So he only asks one more question, “Do you know of any reason why that might have been related to Boyd? Why he would have been looking into those files?”

“None at all.” Isaac starts to turn and then turns back. He is holding up a copy of Stiles’ book. “Wasn’t Ms. Blake a minor character in your first book? You had her as a teacher who Derek, sorry, whatever you called him, had to interview about Erica’s disappearance.”

Stiles remembers all too well, suddenly. He’d had Ms. Blake for English one year. She’d been an odd bird, always reading _The Raven_ , _Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ , _To Kill a Mockingbird._ He’d changed her passions, but not her appearance or mannerisms. In retrospect, he guesses that people saw through most of ruses to mask identities.

Isaac walks off before Stiles can ask another question, but that’s okay. Stiles has enough to think about. This case is not over by a long shot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words keep coming. There will be a thank-you chapter mid-week this week for over 1000 hits (and 20k words!)
> 
> I still have some more twists and turns in this story before its done. 
> 
> As always, be sure to check out my own works on http://www.jeffreymarks.com


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles sees Derek at the dog rescue event and learns more about him from others.

 

Derek shows up not long after Isaac leaves. He gives Stiles a big smile and waves. He’s walking around with Parrish and Danny, but Stiles knows that he’ll be back to talk more. At least he hopes so since he wants to share what he’s learned.

He watches Derek as he walks around the event. He almost seems happy at the event. Stiles hates to bring up the case and ruin the mood, which he knows it will. Derek takes his work seriously – too seriously and Stiles thinks again about Talia Hale’s murder. What would that do to a person?

He knows of the quirks and insecurities he developed after his mother’s death, and Stiles knew the cause. Uncertainty would have added another level of stress and anxiety to the situation. He wonders if he could have coped if that had happened to him. Fortunately, he has his writing. Stiles knows that writing saved his life. Having a refuge, no matter how bloody, helps him.

Derek sees Stiles and moves towards the booth. For the moment, there isn’t a line for books and Stiles has the time to greet Derek. Since he’s with some people from the force, Stiles holds back and doesn’t lean in for a kiss. Derek seems grateful that Stiles is not being blatant about the relationship. “How are sales?” he asks, looking around.

Stiles points to the small stack of books in front of him. “That’s all that’s left. Not bad for a day’s work, eh?”

Derek looks down at the stack and then back at Stiles. His eyes lock with Stiles for a second and that familiar tingling runs down Stiles’ limbs. It electrifies him like the Frankenstein monster, and it definitely revives a part of Stiles.

“You must really be good friends with Scott to do this for him. This can’t be comfortable.” Derek looks at the metal chair that leans precariously with one leg on a mole hill.

Stiles shrugs. “He helped me get over – things, and he was there for me in high school. He’s the best.”

Just then, Kira Yukimura runs up, almost bouncing. “Stiles, everyone here has been telling me that I have to pick up a copy of the book. They say that there’s a certain Japanese character that I have to read about. Is that true?”

Stiles blushes a little, because Derek seems to perk up his ears. “Yeah, it’s true.” Stiles remembers that his editor had insisted on some women of color in the book, and he’s obliged by adding Kira. He’d promptly bumped her off, and now Stiles wondered if the copycat would do the same to the real Kira.

Stiles feels a bit woozy to think of this, and he decides to sit down in the chair, which promptly falls over. Derek slides an arm around Stiles and catches him before he hits the ground. The move seems instinctive, and Stiles is ridiculously turned on by the gesture. He flushes as Kira seems to read his thoughts.

Scott and Allison comes running up as Derek is helping Stiles brush off the incident. “Dude, are you okay?”

For some reason, Derek leaves them at that moment. He walks off with his friends, and Stiles is left to watch them go. He’s puzzled by the sudden move.

“Yeah, fine, I mean I guess.” Stiles looks at the retreating figure and wonder what has happened.

Allison follows Stiles’ glance. “Isn’t that Derek Hale?” she asks.

“Yeah, he’s leading the team on the copycat killer case that I’m on. He was just hear to support the cause.”

Allison frowns and her mouth puckers like she’s tasted a lemon. “He’s still on the force? After what he did to my aunt? Amazing. He practically stalked her for months, trying to prove that she’d killed his mother. It was just creepy.”

“I – I didn’t know,” Stiles stammers. That’s another piece of the puzzle to Stiles. He’d not heard who the girlfriend was. It would figure that someone beautiful like Kate would be involved with Derek. He could probably have any man or woman that he wanted.

“Watch out for him. He gets something and he won’t let go. It’s horrible. She had to move away to keep from going crazy. It was not pretty.” With that, Allison pats Stiles on the arm and heads off to another booth.

Stiles looks at Scott. “So dude, did you do what I asked?”

Scott looks around, and then his gaze returns to Stiles. “I don’t know that I feel right about this.”

“It’s for a friend. Look at it that way.”

Scott sighs. “I guess. My mom checked the records. Peter Hale is not in a rehab center. He’s in a psych ward. He totally lost it after the fire. He’s been restrained ever since. He accuses practically everyone he meets of setting the fire.”

“Wow, that’s worse than I thought. But he could kill those people and all that.”

Scott looks even more uncomfortable. “Technically, yes. He can check himself out any time. My mom didn’t have access to the logs, so she couldn’t see when he’d been out, but it’s definitely possible.”

Stiles wraps his arms around Scott, who now looks even more uncomfortable. “Dude, thank you. This answers a few questions. Tell your mom thanks and that we’ll do dinner soon.”

Scott looks better as Stiles releases him from the hug. “She’d like that. She’s here somewhere if you get the chance to see her.”

Stiles smiles. “Great. I should be out from the table in about an hour at this rate. Then I can find her and thank her myself.”

Scott nods and then hustles off to help Dr. Deaton with something else for the event. Stiles opens a book and signs the front pages of the book. He’s about finished the remaining books when he hears a voice that he’d know anywhere.

“Stiles Stilinski, is there a particular reason that you left me out of your genre bloodfest or was it strictly an oversight on your part.”

Stiles looks up and shades his eyes to see her better. “Hello, Lydia.”

“What do you have to say for yourself? Everyone else at that pathetic high school is in the book except me. Why?” She look genuinely aggrieved, but her face was impassive as she spoke.

“I could never do justice to you on the page. No one would believe the awesomeness that is Lydia Martin.” He’s going on about her attributes when Derek returns – alone this time.

Stiles stops with the soliloquy as he see Derek. “Hey, big guy. How’s the afternoon?”

Derek looks at the stack of books. “Are you about done here? I was hoping we could talk somewhere.”

Stiles looks at Lydia who opens her arms. “Give me all of them. If you write half as well as you bullshit, you’re the next Hemingway. I can make a fortune on these.”

Stiles blushes. “I’m not really a Hemingway fan though. He’s too machismo and latent homosexuality.”

Lydia nods and shifts her gaze from Stiles to Derek. “And you’re nothing if not obvious, right?”

Stiles blushes again.  “If you say so.”

Lydia takes the stack and leaves. “Just add me to the movie version and find someone beautiful to play my role. Holland Roden perhaps?”

Stiles laughs and turns to Derek. “What’s up?”

Derek’s eyes are afire. “I think we have a break in the case. Someone has been looking into my uncle’s files at the hospital.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and tries to focus. “You don’t say.”

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13 on Friday the 13th. Not a bad way to plan things. 
> 
> More to come this week. Check back mid-week for a thank-you chapter. 
> 
> http://www.jeffreymarks.com is my website, in case you want to check out my other mysteries. It's definitely my preferred genre. Let me know some of your favorite authors too.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles tells Derek the truth, which doesn't go well. So he decides to find out who took the police files and maybe solve the case by himself.

 

Derek looks almost smug. “It has to be. There hasn’t been any activity on the house fire in ages. Now you find the files in Boyd’s apartment and someone is asking questions about my uncle. It all has to be related.”

Stiles thinks about lying. It would be easy, and hopefully Melissa had bene careful about looking at the files. But he can’t. He wants to be upfront with Derek, and knowing all that his father had told him, he knows that Derek is somewhat fragile in this area.  “I did it. I had a look at the files,” he says.

Derek looks stunned, hurt, almost as if Stiles had punched him in the gut. “You? What the hell?”

“Derek, I’m floundering here. I’m trying so hard not to be taken in by false clues that I’m all over the place. I wanted to see if there was any way that your uncle could be involved in the copycats. I found out that he couldn’t be, and I dropped it.”

“Fuck,” Derek says loud enough for his friends to hear. “I trusted you. I thought you were different, but you’re all the same. You just want to solve this case to sell a few more books.”

Derek turns and walks away. Stiles just stares after him in disbelief. He’d done the right thing and he gets paid back by being dumped – well, if they were ever really together. How did that happen? He remembers what his father said about Derek and the Hale house fire. He was obsessed. He had to get help. Stiles should have known that delving into the arson case would backfire on him. Derek wouldn’t take any help in the matter and he obviously didn’t appreciate anyone looking into it for him. This was his own demon, and he didn’t want to share.

Stiles signs two more books for a customer without really listening to what she’s saying. He signs them and points her to the cashier. He’s three books from being sold out today. He’s selling two of them to these two older women who apparently knew his father as the sheriff. They’ve read all three books, but they’re asking about new books and telling him stories about his father. He tries to smile and make nice, but damn, it’s harder than he thought to be pleasant after that scene.

Parrish walks up to the table. Stiles holds out the last book. “Should I sign it for you?”

The sheriff laughs as if he’s forcing it. “What the hell happened with Derek? He got in his cat and left. Danny got one of his friends to give him a lift home, but I’m stuck here.”

Stiles swallows hard. “He found out that I’d looked into some of the details about the Hale fire. He took it pretty hard.”

Parrish slaps a palm against his forehead. “Why didn’t you just throw matches at him?  Of course he’s not going to take that well. That case almost broke him the first time around. Now it’s rearing its ugly head in this kidnap-murder case, and it’s about to drive him nuts. He’s keeping it together, but barely.”

Stiles looks at the man. How does he know so much about Derek and the fire when Stiles only knows what his father told him?

Parrish rolls his eyes. “Because I lived through it with him. You’re still incredibly transparent, you know? We’re friends because I spent a lot of nights talking to him.”

“Do you think that the copycat is doing this to get to Derek? I mean, is this all part of the plan?” Stiles thinks about the files again.

“If it is, it’s working. I haven’t seen Derek this distracted in ages. At first I thought it was you, but I’m starting to think it’s the case – and I’m worried.”

Stiles blushes. He still isn’t entire comfortable talking to Jordan about a new guy, but it’s easier than he thought. “Me?”

Parrish looks at him. “I tell you all that, and that’s your one question? Stiles, you need to think about what this could do to Derek. I’m telling you. It’s not easy on him to let anyone in, much less someone who is likely to know his past. But he has very distinct boundaries, and you’re not known for respecting those.”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m trying, but this isn’t easy on me either. After all, someone is using my books to plot kidnappings and murders. I’m kind of distracted here.”

Parrish nods. “Yeah, I get that, but even on a good day, you’re likely to push a few of Derek’s buttons. I get your anxiety, but Stiles, you gotta know that this isn’t your fault. Salinger didn’t take credit for all the stupidity done in the name of Holden Caulfield. You can’t take credit for the crimes done because someone read your books either.”

Stiles smiles, which surprises him a little. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“However, you are directly responsible for me not having a ride home.” Parrish holds his hands up and to his sides. The pose lets Stiles see how good he looks in those jeans and tight-fitting shirt. Even though Stiles had known that it wouldn’t work out, he had enjoyed the sex while it lasted.

Stiles hands him the book again. “Buy the book. It’s my last copy, and I’ll drive you home.”

Parrish takes it, reads the cover copy and flips it over, one handed, to see the photo of Stiles. “It doesn’t do you justice. You’re way hotter in person.”

Stiles blushes again. “Thanks, but I already offered you a ride home.”

Parrish laughs. “You’re cute when you blush. You sure about this? The hotel is on the other side of town.”

“No sweat. What brought you up here?” Stiles is curious if the flirtatious Parrish had his eyes on Derek or maybe Danny.

“Just some talk about the police files in Boyd’s apartment.”

Stiles holds himself still, waiting to see if Parrish will spill or if he’ll have to ask. After a several seconds, he says. “Okay, so what about them?”

The pair walk to the cashier’s table near the exit. Parrish doesn’t speak immediately, and Stiles realizes it’s likely because there are so many people around. He does a quick scan, but he doesn’t see Scott or Allison or Kira or anyone else from BHHS around.  Parrish pays for the book, and they head off to Stiles’ Jeep in the lot. He’d gotten a VIP spot for parking so it only takes a few seconds for them to get to the car.

After the doors were closed, Parrish took a deep breath. “They’re original files from BHPD. My ass is in hot water that apparently Boyd visited one day and walked out with dozens of case files. I don’t know how it happened or when, but people are wanting answers.”

“Are you sure that Boyd took them? I mean, who else has access?” Stiles starts the Jeep without issue and pulls out of the lot.

“Anyone who works there. Anyone who knows anyone who works there. Security isn’t all that tight. It’s Beacon Hills, for shit’s sake. No one has looked at most of these files in ages.” Parrish looks upset by the admission. Stiles has to agree. His father likely would have noticed the missing files. He was forever going back over old cases and trying to get a lead on them.

“So being in Boyd’s apartment could just be a red herring? I mean, they could have no bearing on the case at all.”

“Other than to screw me over good, yeah. It’s very possible.”

Stiles sighs. “I wish I knew which of these leads was the right one.”

“You just need to take a deep breath and pick one. If it’s not the right path, you’ll figure it out soon enough and then you can pick another. It’s better than flailing around, which is what you seem to be doing now.”

Stiles pulled the Jeep into a spot outside the hotel. “Here you go. I can’t solve cases, but I can deliver the sheriff to --.”

His statement is cut short by the press of Jordan’s mouth against his own. He has a grip on the front of Stiles’ shirt, and he’s holding him in place. Not that Stiles would fight too hard. Parrish always was a great kisser – and technically, he’s free to do as he pleases.

Parrish’s tongue slides into his mouth, but before Stiles can object, Parrish has his hand between Stiles’ legs.

“Whoa,” he says, pulling back as far as he can in the enclosed space.

“I thought that’s why you offered to drive me back to the hotel. Relive a little of the old fun.” Parrish’s lips are red and slightly swollen, which makes him look all the more desirable.

“No, I was being a nice guy. And I’m being one now.”

Parrish breaks out into a grin. “Oh my god, you really like Derek. I mean, like like him. I thought it was just another hook-up thing, but – wow.”

“Yeah, and from what my former FWB says, I don’t stand a chance in hell with him.” Stiles says.

“Eh, things could change. You never know. For right now, you could do me a solid by just telling me how they got the files.”

Stiles is glad that the moment for a hook-up has passed and things are back to normal for them. He remembers the BHPD building. There is a locked door to enter before heading back to the offices. “Is there still a sign-in and the locked door?”

“Yeah, so we could figure out who got in, but how did they get the files out? That’s what I want to know. It was either someone who could make the files invisible or it’s one of our own guys. Neither of those is very appealing to me.”

Stiles remembers something that he’d read a while back. “Let me get back to you. I’ll come down next week to visit my dad, and I’ll give you a call. Maybe we can get this figured out.”

Parrish opens the door, turns and gives Stiles a smile. “Definitely give me a call. I’m sure we can find something to do.”

He closes the door and leaves. Stiles has an idea that might answer some questions. If he’s right, Parrish will be too busy to think of other things to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm getting fairly far into this. I'm thinking that this mystery will end up being over 30k, give or take, because I still have some tricks up my sleeve. My question is whether or not I should split the second half into its own book, which would be the solution of the Hale fire. Castle's been on for how many seasons -- so I should be able to make 2 works out of this, right? Do you prefer 1 longer work or 2 shorter? Readers, let me know!
> 
> As always, check out my other works at http://www.jeffreymarks.com


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles detects with his father and gets close to a killer.

Stiles enjoys spending time with his father. So often when he was growing up, his dad had to work late or spend more time at the station. Now that he’s retired, his dad seems ten years younger. He’s loss some of the worry lines around his eyes, and he’s even taken Stiles suggestions on working out. Of course, Stiles did promise his father not to bug him about the occasion fast food, if he took steps to keep up his health.

It’s after a run that left both of them panting for breath that Stiles brings up the missing files. He’s not heard a thing from Derek since that day when he’d disclosed that he’d been looking into the arson files and seeing if Peter was really incapable of having caused the deaths. Stiles misses Derek, but he knows that in his own way, he can be as obsessed as Derek about murder cases. He’d managed to get involved with a few of his father’s cases, and the solution, while almost always correct, caused a few problems between father and son.

“So about these missing files? How is Parrish handling all of that?” Stiles broaches to his father. He’d planned the trip before he knew about the files, so he’d been careful to only bring it up after several days.

“What files?” his father says with a broad grin.

Stiles sighs. His father is playing coy, and they both know it. Gossip is practically a sport in Beacon Hills, and there’s no way that his father hadn’t heard about it from his former deputies, if not from Parrish directly.

“The police files,” Stiles says finally, giving in.

“What about them?”

“What’s going on with them? Has anyone found out anything about them? They were found at the scene of a murder,” Stiles says, knowing that the last statement is an exaggeration. 

“Nice try, Stiles, but we both know that’s not the truth,” his father corrects him.

“Then you know about them?”

“Of course, I do. I didn’t fall off the face of the earth. I know what goes on the station still. Parrish is in a bit of hot water over it. Privacy issues and security concerns. The election’s not for another year, but I’d be worried if I were him.”

Stiles just nods.

“You two aren’t on speaking terms? I noticed that you haven’t called him since you’ve been home. Something up?” His father is watching him carefully. Stiles isn’t sure exactly what his father knows, but apparently it’s enough to make him ask about their relationship.

“Nothing like that. I just didn’t want to disturb him. He’s got problems at work, and I don’t want to interrupt – not unless I have something to add to the investigation.” Stiles wishes that he did have something to add. It would be a way to see Derek again.

“Do you?” his father asks. Who else would know better the devious way that Stiles’ mind works than his own dad?

“Not yet. A few ideas are there, but nothing concrete. How do you think those files got out of there?” Stiles wishes he could get the thoughts of Derek out of his mind, so that he could concentrate on the case and how those files disappeared.

“Inside job.” The words are offered just like that. His father’s tone is bland, but Stiles knows that anyone who would betray the force and steal from the sheriff would have his father’s eternal ire.

“You’re certain of that?” Stiles has at least three other scenarios that could explain it.

“Has to be,” his father replies. “They had to get in and get out. Getting in is easy. Getting out with stacks of file folders would be more difficult. The number of files involved means that it had to be done over time. That many trips to the well means that it was someone who could come and go as they pleased.”

“Someone who worked there.” Stiles sees the logic in the statements.

“Or someone involved with someone who worked there.”

“You mean like someone who signed in? Wouldn’t that be obvious?”

“Not every single person signs in. The people who are regulars often skip the sign-in sheet. It’s more for the people who come in every so often.”

Stiles puzzles over this. He had planned to go to the station tomorrow and root through the sign-in sheets for the relevant time periods, but now he questioned this. What would be gained by rummaging through a stack of papers with nothing helpful in them? Now what?

His dad clears his throat, and Stiles looks up.  “Or you – don’t think I don’t know about you and Parrish, because I do.”

Stiles turns crimson. He’s never heard such a bald statement about his involvement with the new sheriff from his father. He’s embarrassed and feeling a bit slutty – especially now that he’s interested in Derek.

“It’s not that I mind, but I’m just pointing out that there’s more than one person who could have taken them.”

Stiles smiles at his father. “I swear that it wasn’t me. I did stop by one night with a pizza, but – ” He stops in mid-sentence.

His dad interrupts. “Look, it’s not that I care. I’ve known you were gay since high school. It’s not a big surprise. I was just taken aback to find out who it was.”

Stiles shrugs. “I didn’t mean it to happen. It just did.”

His father rolls his eyes. “How many times can something just happen? Once is one thing, but this was a pretty steady thing.”

Stiles sighs. “Yeah, well, it’s complicated.”

“Are you going to see him while you’re down here? Is this anything serious?”

Stiles stands up straight, surprised by the question. “Dad, no. It’s not serious at all.”

His father looks at him. “But there is someone serious. Don’t even try to deny it. I was a pretty good investigator when I worked. I saw your tell, and no, I won’t tell you what it is. That’s my one sure way to know when you’re lying.”

Stiles’ eyes grow wide. “Yeah, there is.”

“It’s Hale, isn’t it? That’s what all the questions were about – the fire, the aftermath, Derek’s behavior.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, I really am looking into the Hale arson case. The file was in Boyd’s apartment. I wanted to know more about what happened and I asked Melissa to look into Peter’s condition.”

The sheriff does a great imitation of a face plant. “Really? You got her involved in this. Not good, Stiles. Not good.”

Stiles thinks of the results of the investigation, and how Derek is now avoiding him. “I know. Not good at all.”

“So did you find out anything?” his father asks, just like the former policeman that he is. Leave it to his dad to want to hear about the crime in the heartache.

“Nothing worth much. Peter’s condition is unchanged. So he can’t be the one who is sending Derek taunting messages. He’s ruled out.”

The sheriff nods. “Yeah, I know. I went over to the hospital myself to take a look.” He gives his son a big grin. “You’re not the only one who can follow a clue, you know? I still have my connections, and Peter is still out of it. Nothing has changed there.”

 

The next day, Stiles is bored. He’s been having fun with his father, but there’s only so much bonding time he can take. He’s antsy to start on his book, but he won’t start it here. Too many memories and too many ideas bouncing in his head. He needs his apartment, complete with stocked frig in order to work.

Instead, he heads over to the station. So that he doesn’t make it too obvious, he stops on the way and picks up a pizza with everything on it – that’s Parrish’s favorite. He walks into the station and is met with a round of hellos and welcomes. A couple of the women give him a hug, and a few of the officers give him a handshake.

At least here, he’s not treated like someone who sold out his town to write a bestseller. That’s only the high school crowd. Even so, the memories are thick here, and Stiles has more than one quick memory of cases he worked with his dad. They bring a smile to his face. How many times had he put himself in jeopardy to help his dad?

Parrish is in his office as Stiles brings in the pizza and sets the box down on the desk. Parrish gives him a wicked grin. “I don’t know which I’m happier to see – you or the pizza.”

Stiles gives him a smile in return. “The only thing being eaten today is the pizza, so dig in.”

They sit and chat about the current cases. Nothing too big is going on. There’s an arson in a new suburb, and supposedly a new lead in the Blake case. Stiles remembers that Isaac had talked about the vehicular death of Ms. Blake. No one knew why she was running through the woods and into oncoming traffic. The media had assumed drugs, though the tox screen had come back clean. So the lead might prove interesting.

Finally Parrish finished his third piece. He’d realized that Stiles’ visit was only a social one and indicated that he had to get back to work.

Stiles takes the box with him out to the car. As he slides the pizza box into the Jeep, a scrap of paper floats down from the bottom of the box. It must be something from Jordan’s desk, he thought. Something that got stuck to the grease of the box.

He runs the paper back into the station and returns it. As he slides in next to the pizza, he has a moment of clarity.

Stiles picks up his phone and dials. “Derek, it’s Stiles. Look I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I’ve got it. I figured out how the files got out of the station and into Boyd’s apartment. I’m staying at my dad’s but I might be back up tonight. Call me.” He hits the off button just before he feels the crash of something hard against his head and everything turns to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still hard at work on this, but we're getting close to a solution to the copycat case. 
> 
> As always, check out my website at: http://www.jeffreymarks.com


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up and learns the truth about what happened to Boyd and Matt.

 

Stiles awakes slowly. The pain at the back of his head aches, and he thinks he might be physically ill. He doesn’t move, but just lays there hoping for the pain to subside. When it feels like he won’t throw up, Stiles opens one eye and looks around.

The first thing he notices is that he’s trussed up. His arms and legs are tied behind him and those ropes are tied together as well. The tension on his arms is causing them to ache. Stiles knows from a rather unfortunate incident with Jordan that pulling on the ropes will only make them tighter.

He doesn’t recognize the room where he’s at. It appears to be a bedroom of some sort. He spies a bed in the corner, though he’s prostrate on the floor. The door is on the opposite side of the room, and even if he wasn’t tied, he knows that the door will be locked. The person who kidnapped him is too smart to let him escape.

Stiles goes back over the message he left for Derek, trying to remember if he told Derek the name of the person responsible for all of this. He’s pretty sure that he didn’t leave the name, thinking that he would see Derek shortly and that he is too proud of his own deductive skills to share credit with someone who had dumped him.

Damn, now Stiles wishes that he had told Derek. The police would know where to look for him. Of course, they’d all be looking for him. His dad still lives in Beacon Hills, and his former FWB is the current sheriff. But depending on what’s to be done with him, time could be very limited.

The pain in his skull is bothering him, and he passes out again. When he awakes again, the pain is less but the ache in his arms and legs is far worse. He wonders how long he’s been like this. Would anyone even know that he is gone yet?

The door opens, and Stiles twists his head to look up. Small consolation, given his current state, but his deductions are correct. It’s Erica.

She’s wearing a tight red skirt and a low-cut blouse. She doesn’t speak as she enters the room. She sits on the edge of the bed and looks at him with a grin on your face.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she says with a smile. “I imagine that you’re surprised to see me too.”

Stiles tries to grin back, but his face hurts. He wonders if Erica took a few cheap shots on him while he was out. “Not at all. I had this figured out. You just got to me before I could tell all.”

“Of course, I forgot. You’re the world-famous mystery author. You know everything.” She stands up and looks down on him from her vantage point.

“It’s not that. It was the pizza box,” Stiles says. He’s not sure what she is planning, but he knows that his own hero keeps the bad guys talking to give him more time to come up with a plan of escape. Of course, Stiles always gave them a way out.

He gives himself a pep talk that he just needs to find that way out for himself as well. There has to be something in here to use as a weapon or a means of cutting the ropes. He doesn’t carry a knife or other sharp instrument. Knowing how he is, Stiles would likely sever a finger in no time.

“The pizza box was a stroke of genius. I brought a pizza one night for Boyd. One of the officers gave me some forms to fill out for Boyd, and for a joke, he shoved them in the box. When I wanted a way to smuggle out papers, I already knew how to do it.” She laughs, but it’s not the usual flirty laugh he’s used to hearing. It’s hard and bitter.

“And you took the folders for blackmail. You read through the files and got people to pay you for their secrets.”

Erica kicks him hard in the solar plexus. Stiles wheezes. He tried to curl up from the pain, but the movement only serves to make the ropes tighten. He aches all over now. “Maybe you are telling the truth. You seem to know the details here. I thought you were just blowing smoke. You were a trip, going on about the meta of your book and how it tied to the case. All I did was use the lousy book for to throw suspicions away from my blackmail.”

Stiles coughs and he aches as he does. “Of course, you found things that the police had missed in the files, and you made use of them. Like the case with Ms. Blake. I’m not sure what you found, but you were blackmailing her parents. That’s why you had the files on the Hale fire, too.”

Erica leans down and smacks him across the face – hard. He can feel a trickle of blood down from the corner of his mouth. “You’d be amazed at the truth behind that Blake case. It wasn’t hard to figure out. You just needed a filthy mind to go there. I guess your boy toy sheriff didn’t do that.”

“What was it?” Stiles asks.

Erica shakes her head. “No, I’m not going to tell you. You’ll go to your death knowing that the great Stiles Stilinski couldn’t figure something out. A fitting punishment for all eternity.”

“Death?” Stiles asks, though he knew that she would not let him out of this room alive. He’d already shown that he knew too much. “Like you killed Boyd?”

“If you’re asking, yes, I killed Boyd. He figured out my scheme. One night I came home and found all the files I’d taken on the coffee table, He’d been going through them, and he’d figured out what I was up to.”

“So you killed him.” Stiles remembers the folders on the table. Not much time could have gone by from the discovery to Erica putting her plan in motion.

“I could have probably handled it, if he hadn’t gone out drinking Matt and told him everything. That’s when I knew he would have to go – but it couldn’t look like I was behind it. I saw an ad for your latest book and got the idea to drag you into this, just like you dragged all of us into your first book.”

“That was just creative license on my part. I didn’t kill anyone with my book.” Stiles was listening and trying to come up with a plan. There was nothing in the room that could cut the ropes. The only other option would be to knock Erica down and try to get the ropes around her neck. He recoiled at the idea of injuring or killing someone, but it was truly a matter of him vs her.

“So you killed Matt so he wouldn’t talk.” Stiles recalls the dead man on the floor. “What about the photo?”

She shrugs. “I wanted to throw some suspicion on Isaac. If you were dirty-minded enough to figure out what Ms. Blake was up to, then I thought you might consider him a suspect.”

Stiles furrowed his brow. Despite his predicament, he was puzzled by the references. What had he missed in that case? He wondered what it could have been. “So after you killed Matt, Boyd had to go.”

“He found me in the parking lot afterwards. He wanted to talk. So we got into my car, and I pretty much did to him what I’m going to do to you.”

“Wh-Wh-What do you mean?” Stiles says, feeling the anxiety build within him. This is definitely not the time for a panic attack. He needs his wits about him, and he needs to find a way out.

“I’m going to finish this off – just like your book. Do you remember the last death in _What Big Teeth You Have?”_ Erica gave him a grin.

Stiles feels bile rise from his throat into his mouth. Of course, he remembers that death. The murderer was beheaded by the hero. Stiles argued with his editor about the death. The editor had felt it too gruesome, but Stiles had lobbied hard for it. Now he wishes that the editor had won.

Stiles feels his hope draining. No one has found him yet. No one is likely to find him in the last few minutes of his life.

Erica walks across the room and picks up an axe. Stiles can see the blade shine as she picks it up. He guesses that she spent time during her “kidnapping” to sharpen the blade.

She doesn’t speak as she approaches him. He can’t see anymore as she puts a foot on his neck, forcing his face down to the floor. He can barely breathe, but he knows that’s the least of his problems.

Stiles can’t see what is going on, but he hears the sound of a voice, followed by shouting and gunfire. He can recognize the acrid smell in his nostrils, but he has no idea what’s going on. He’s still waiting for the axe to fall, when the foot lets up on his neck.

He’s not sure why things changed until he see Erica’s body fall next to his.

“Erica, what did you find out from the Hale fires? Tell me, who was behind the fire,” Stiles pleads.

He’s not sure if she’ll speak or not, but he has to ask. She shifts her head slightly, and blood is flowing from her mouth. “It was….,” she begins, and her eyes grow dull and lifeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I'm closing up this case, so I can ramp up on the Hale fire. I tried to do a tie-in so that one leads to the next. 
> 
> As always, I love to chat with people about this story -- or mysteries -- or other pieces. 
> 
> I can be found at: http://www.jeffreymarks.com


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the end of the case based on his books, Stiles is still left with doubts about the Hale fire. He decides to try to learn what he missed in the police files.

 

It has been two weeks since Erica’s death, and Derek still hasn’t been to see him. Stiles had reported what Erica had said about the Hale fire to BHPD, but nothing from Derek. Stiles knows that Derek has to know about it, but either his anger about looking into Peter’s alibi or his betrayal at thinking that Stiles would not involve himself in the Hale fire has kept him away.

Stiles looks at his screen again. He’s 25,000 words into the new book. No signs of writers’ block now. His main character has developed a love interest in this book, and Stiles is not sure if the addition is wish-fulfillment or truly a necessary addition to keep the series fresh.

Of course, just for the sake of verisimilitude, Stiles has just made the characters have a fight. He sighs as he reads the passage again. He flips over to his email, but of course, there’s nothing from Derek there. Just more promotions for the new book and numbers from his agent on the last book.

Stiles rubs his neck, which is still a bit tender from his encounter with Erica. Damn it, she’d read the files, and she’d known immediately – or close to it – who had started the Hale fire. Stiles has been through the files at least a dozen times and nothing comes to mind. He’s not sure if his mind goes back to it because he wants to help Derek and work things out, or because his ego is hurt that Erica figured it out with ease.

He pulls the files out of his desk drawer again. If Derek’s still not talking to him, then there’s no harm done if he looks at them. He reviews the whole file, looking at each statement as if it might tell him something new about the crime. But it doesn’t. It’s still the same pieces of information he’s read.

He takes a deep sigh. He wonders about what Erica had said about the Blake case. Why had she been running? Erica had implied that it had a sexual element, but nothing more.

He’s still too hopeful that Derek might decide to come talk to him. Stiles knows that he can’t openly begin to investigate the Hale fire, even if he wanted to. Jordan enjoys lots of things about him, but there’s no sex act good enough to allow Jordan to forgive him looking into an open murder case.

Plus Stiles is a little concerned at how handsy the new sheriff was when they looked into the murders. Working side by side with Parrish would mean that he’d have to deal with this daily. It’s a huge temptation on a good day, and Stiles isn’t sure he’d be strong enough to say “no” every day.

So scratch the Hale fire for the moment. He decides to look at the whole Blake case. Isaac’s father had hit Jennifer Blake with his car, when she ran across the highway in a panic. The case sounds interesting to him. He knows that Isaac was in the car at the time. Maybe he can start with a simple visit to the bookstore and a talk about that night. He decides to wait on talking to the Blakes since Erica had insinuated that they were behind the reasons for the late night run.

As he’s sitting there, the file on Cora Hale falls to the floor. Derek had been convinced that this case had been a simple B&E. Stiles pulls the file and reads it again. He can focus more on it now since Derek isn’t here to tell him that it means nothing. So he flips through each page. On the last page, he stops. All of the electronic equipment from the robbery had been dumped behind a store not more than two blocks from Cora’s place.

Stiles puzzles over this. Why take the electronics if you’re not going to keep them? They were bulky. Carrying them would slow you down. So why take them and dump them so fast. He knows the reason. It’s classic misdirection. The thief had not been there for the cash or electronics. The thief had cover his tracks by hiding whatever he wanted in Cora’s apartment behind a mask of routine theft.

Stiles decides to pay a visit to Cora. He would call, but in person, he knows he can wrap the conversation back to Derek and see what he’s up to. He knows it’s silly, but he wants to find out all the same.

Stiles makes the trip to Cora’s in no time. She’s moved here since the time of the robbery, presumably to be closer to Derek, one of her only remaining family members. So it’s just a ten minute trip to her place.

He knocks on the door and draws a sigh of relief when Cora answers the door. She’s dressed casually and looks like she might be getting ready to go out.

“Stiles, what do you want?” Cora asks. She’s always been brusque and to the point, just like her brother. It’s one of the things that Stiles likes about her.

“Cora, hey. I had a question about the robbery that took place at your old apartment. Got a second?”

She rolls her eyes, but she moves aside so that he can enter. “What now? It was a robbery. I don’t know why everyone is so excited about it.”

“What do you mean ‘everyone’?” Stiles asks.

“You’d think there was a pile of dead bodies here,” she says, but Stiles can see in her face that perhaps she’s now thinking better of that analogy.

“So who has asked about it?” Stiles asks, but he thinks he already knows the answer.

“Erica asked about it a few weeks ago. Then Derek was here yesterday asking practically the same questions.” Cora huffs and flops down in a chair. “Why does anyone care?”

“Because no one thinks it’s a simple robbery. Your electronics were dumped a short way from your old apartment. Why take all that stuff if they didn’t want it?”

“Just to piss me off?” Cora responds.

“Not a great motive for moving all your electronics. I can do that without lifting a finger.” Stiles grins at her, but she remains passive.

“So they wanted something else from my apartment? What? Derek seemed to think that they’d wanted some old photos of our house before the fire. We had to go through all of them and make sure they were all here.”

“Were they?” Stiles asks, wondering if he’s going to get anywhere following behind two other people in an investigation.

“Every last one. The only bright moment was finding some early pictures of Derek. I think I’ll TBT them on Facebook next week as revenge.”

Stiles smiles at the thought of a young innocent Derek who still trusted people and didn’t nearly get thrown off the force for investigating his family’s murder.

“Have you missed anything?” Stiles hopes that she’ll think of something. He doesn’t want to be in third place in this investigation. He can feel his competitive nature kick in.

“Nothing. I’ve packed it all and moved it and unpacked it. Everything is here.”

Stiles catches his breath. “Would you mind if I look around for a few minutes? I’m thinking that if the thieves didn’t want to take something maybe they were leaving something behind instead.”

“I hope it’s money. I could use some. Would it stop you if I said no?” Cora asks.

“Maybe for a bit, but I’d find a way to do it.” Stiles starts looking around. His eyes light on the bookshelves. A perfect place to put something that wouldn’t come to light during a move. “How about the bookshelves?”

Cora sighs, but she stands up to help. They go through the shelves of books methodically, starting at the bottom and working up. The thieves hadn’t spent much time at her place, so they likely didn’t make the hiding place too difficult.

They are on the top shelve when Cora gasps. For a moment, Stiles thinks that she’s going to fall off their perch, but she rights herself and hands him the book. Stiles looks inside of a copy of _Folklore in the Middle Ages_. A coil of thin wire is tucked inside. A foot or so of the wire is coated in a coppery brown substance. Stiles realizes that this has to be the wire that garroted Talia Hale prior to her death. Someone has put this in here to frame Cora for the murder.

They step down from the perch. Cora still hasn’t spoken a word. She just looks at the wire with a mixture of panic, anger, and sadness on her face. Finally she says, “We need to call Derek – now.”

Stiles nods. Though not the way he wants it, Derek Hale is back in his life again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're off and running on the next case. I hope everyone stays on-board for the next set of deductions!
> 
> You can always find out what I'm up to at http://www.jeffreymarks.com


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek meet for the first time since their fight and sparks fly (and so do clues!)

 

“Who the hell asked you to get involved in this?” Derek practically growls the words at Stiles. “No one needs you.”

“Apparently the world thinks I should be involved. First, I get photos of me signing books given to me on a stake-out. Then I’m kidnapped by someone who taunts me that I don’t know what happened with the fire and that she does. Now I’m the one who found that coil of wire. I was already involved.” Stiles feels his cheeks flush. He wishes he could be cool under pressure, but he’s not the type. He is upset when people yell at him. He cares when people hurt. He’s just always been that way.

“So how do I know that you’re not behind all of this?” Derek gives him a look that would wilt those with less self-esteem.

“Because I’m the person who was kidnapped. The police had to rescue me. So that kind of rules me out as a suspect in that case. As far as the coil goes, I think it was put here so that the person behind this could have access to the wire if they wanted it again.”

“Like Peter?” Derek smirks like he knows the many blind alleys that Stiles has already tried.

A part of Stiles breaks a little as he hears the words. He knows that Derek is furious with him, and there’s nothing he can do to fix that. The only thing he can do is solve this case and perhaps afford Derek some peace. “Look, I should have come to you to ask, but I know how you get about this case. I was trying to save you any more trouble with it.”

“Going behind my back is not the way to do that, Stiles.” For a second, Stiles almost imagines that he hears a note of fondness in Derek’s voice. Maybe this is the conversation that they need.

“Stop,” Cora shouts. “Derek, you’re right. Stiles should not have asked about our family without your permission, but in all fairness, you wouldn’t have given it to him. And Stiles, you need to apologize to Derek. Then the two of you need to kiss, make up and tell me why the hell that wire is in my house!” The last words come out at a higher pitch, and Stiles can see the strain in her face. Peter, Derek and Laura had had more years with Talia. They had known her and remembered her better. Cora had just been a young girl at the time.

Stiles knows that his own memories of his mother have faded over time, so that he has to concentrate to bring back her face as it was – and not just the photographic images that he kept.

Stiles decides to go first, in hopes that he might help Cora calm down. “Derek, I am truly sorry. I only want what’s best for you, and I knew the strain that this link would cause you. Believe me. I never want to hurt you.”

Derek’s mouth starts to move, and before a word comes out, he’s pressed against Stiles. Stiles starts to speak, but Derek’s tongue in his mouth kind of stops that thought – in fact it stops all thought. He momentarily thinks about the fact that Cora’s in the room, but he pushes that away and just enjoys the moment.

Finally Derek pulls back, and Stiles gasps for air. “Does that mean that things are better?”

Cora slaps him on the back of the head.

“Oww,” he whines. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

Derek only grunts. “So why would someone leave the wire here? Why not get rid of it? There could be evidence on it.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re going to find anything at all on it. I think that the killer was very sure that it couldn’t be traced back to him – or her – but he wanted it to be somewhere he could get it if he wanted to.”

Cora gives a shiver. “I don’t like the idea that I’ve been living here with that thing for months. It makes me sick.” She throws her head back and stares at the ceiling. Stiles wonders if she is reliving that night.

“Why the books?” Derek asks, giving Stiles a very small smile.

“I don’t think that there’s any tie-in to the folklore if that’s what you’re hinting at. Books are something that people pack without going through them. They get dumped in a box and put back up on shelves without any real inspection. It was a safe hiding place.”

“So in real terms, we’re not any further than we were before,” Cora says. “We don’t know a thing.”

“Erica was here. Erica said that she’d figured the case out. So if I’m on her trail, then I’m going in the right direction.”

Derek’s brow furrows. “What else did Erica say?”

“She said that I was blind for missing the clues to the fire. She said that I didn’t have a dirty enough mind to figure out why Jennifer Blake had been running in the woods. She laughed at my ignorance, and then was going to kill me.”

“Do you think they’re related?” Derek asks. “The Blake case and the fire?”

Stiles shrugs. “They could be. I made them separate events in my mind because she was talking about two different things, but they could be related. Whoever was responsible for both of those was being blackmailed by Erica.”

“Yeah, the police already looked into that. There were a number of large cash deposits made to Erica’s account, but they were all cash transactions, so there’s no way to trace that back to someone – unless we have a suspect. Then we can check their bank accounts.”

Stiles keeps an eye on Derek. He remembers reading the reports about Derek and the fire. He doesn’t want to be the one who pushes him over the edge again. He wants to help solve this. It’s a puzzle after all, and when he’s not blocked, he writes mysteries like this daily. At the same time, he’s worried that Derek might not be up to an in-depth investigation.

Derek turns and faces Stiles. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t ever play poker with us. We’ll clean you out. I can read everything on your face. I’m not going to have a breakdown. I’m not going to go crazy. That’s done. I do want to find out who killed my mother. That’s just natural.”

Cora watches her brother. Stiles can tell that she’s just as concerned as he is. “Besides, I’m keeping an eye on him too. He won’t get too obsessive, or he’ll have to answer to me.”

Stiles gives Derek a smile and reaches down to grab his hand. “So you’re not going to think that I was the one who did this?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “You were only ten when it happened. You’re not an evil genius, and you weren’t setting fires at age ten. If you want to know why I suspected Kate, just ask.”

Stiles opens his mouth, and Cora bursts out laughing. “Stilinski, I at least thought you’d let me finish my sentence first.” She draws a breath. “Kate liked playing with Derek’s emotions. She kept him guessing about the fire. She made it seem like she might be involved. She knew that he wasn’t that into her as a girlfriend, but she was irresistible as a suspect. I think she planted a few clues to point to her at our house. I think she let a few things slip, because she wanted to look guilty enough to provoke Derek’s interest.”

Stiles groans. He can’t imagine that level of desperation and maliciousness. He couldn’t imagine anyone messing with his mother’s memory for a date. Who would be evil enough to do such a thing? Fake evidence to get a guy interested in you. It cried desperation. Stiles has seen Kate around town, and he knows that she is Allison’s aunt, but he’s never officially met her. Now he knows he never wanted to.

Derek speaks up. “I just went overboard with it. After it got to a certain point, I couldn’t live with myself. I had to know if I was sleeping with the woman who had killed my mother. Of course, part of that investigation was into her actions. She recognized that the relationship had died and been replaced with suspicions. So she called my superior and told him that I was obsessed with the case and with her. She was right, but she left out the motivations.”

Stiles sighed. “So the evidence is all tainted?”

Derek nods. “Afraid so. Any suggestions?”

“The first thing we need to do is sort through things and determine what’s real and what’s not. The real things will lead us to the killer.”

Cora smacks him in the back of the head again. “If it was only that easy. You have to remember that Derek’s been ordered not to look into that case again. It could mean his badge if he does.”

Stiles grins at her. “Nobody said anything about the former sheriff’s son. He’s free to do what he wants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the second half of the case is underway. I have some ideas of the twists and turns to come. 
> 
> As always check out what I'm doing at: http://www.jeffreymarks.com


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few more deductions and a romantic interlude.

In the end, they decide to start with the Jennifer Blake case. As Derek points out, no one has ordered him to stay away from that case, so he’s not doing anything wrong. They have greater leeway in looking around.

Of course, Stiles already has the file on the case from the stack of papers that he found at Boyd and Erica’s apartment. He feels melancholy for a moment, realizing that both of them are dead. He’s way too young to be losing former classmates already. At this rate, he could have his ten year reunion in a phone booth.

Derek’s attitude is more black-and-white. These people committed crime and knew the potential hazards. Stiles recognizes that Derek doesn’t talk about the things that could happen to them for looking into what are supposed to be closed crimes – or unearthing blackmail materials that would now be considered lost.

The following evening, Derek shows up with a pizza. Cora is conspicuously absent, though just yesterday she had wanted to participate in all meetings. Stiles isn’t sure how she could help, because she hadn’t been old enough to know Blake, though he has no doubts that her mind is dirty enough.

Stiles forgets the case for a few minutes and lunges into the pizza. Somehow Derek has learned what his favorite pizza is, because that’s what he’s carrying as he enters. Two pieces later, he remembers his guest and gives him a peck on the cheek.

“I take it you like this?” Derek says with a grin.

Stiles just nods, since he’s got his third slice in his mouth.

“So what have you done with the files regarding Blake?” Derek asks, looking around the room. Though the place is nicely furnished, which Derek suspects has more to do with Lydia Martin and other friends than Stiles himself, there are stacks of papers and research materials everywhere.

Stiles swallows, which makes Derek all the more aware of the fact that they’re alone in the same place together – and he’s no longer angry at Stiles for his well-intentioned, but poorly executed investigation. “Well, there are some indications of some –” Stiles starts to blush.

“What?”

“Bodily fluids inside the corpse…” The red reaches his ears now.

Derek rolls his eyes. “So there was some sort of sexual acitivity before she was killed? Does the report tell if it was consensual?”

Stiles turns pizza sauce red at this point. “Yeah, it seems to have been. No indication that it was otherwise.”

Derek merely grunts. “Erica said that it was kinky, which was why you missed it. So what can we say about that?”

Stiles averts his eyes. “I’m not sure why she’d say that about me.”

Derek laughs. “And when was the last time you got laid? I’m picturing you sitting in your office typing until all hours of the night, oblivious to hunger and other needs.”

Stiles looks over at the pizza. Maybe Derek has come closer to the truth than he knows here. “Yeah, well, it’s been a while. Maybe I just need a refresher.” He wiggles his eyebrows in what is supposed to be a suggestive expression. “And what about you? I’m sure they all throw themselves at you.”

Derek thinks back to Kate and her manipulations of his emotions and his career. He’s had a few one-night stands since then, but they are few and far between. “I don’t catch every pass that’s thrown,” he says nonchalantly.

Before he can say something else, Stiles has launched himself at Derek. Their mouths meet fiercely, pressed hard against each other. Stiles wastes no time. His hands seem to be everywhere at once. He slides his arms around Derek, and then quickly he’s moved down to Derek’s ass. He squeezes Derek gently, giving him an opportunity to protest. However, Derek knows that isn’t going to happen. He has no desire to stop.

Derek’s hands are running over Stiles’ shirt at this point, but he yanks a corner of the button-down free from his jeans and slides a hand over the cool skin over Stiles’ ribs. He hears the other man gasp at the contact. He smiles while he’s still kissing Stiles.

Stiles, who Derek knows never does anything by halves, yanks his shirt free and pulls it over Derek’s head. The room is cool, but the heat of being pressed against Stiles warms him quickly. Stiles pulls away from Derek and ducks his head down. He begins licking Derek’s chest. His fingers splay through his chest hair. Stiles moves lower, which drives Derek wild, thinking of all the possibilities.

Derek pulls Stiles back long enough to get his shirt unbuttoned and shoved back over his shoulders. With Stiles’ arms pinned behind him, Derek starts a slow slide down his chest using teeth, tongue and kisses. Stiles is oddly silent, which is helpful and disconcerting all at once. Derek looks up and sees the other man’s face relaxed in pleasure.

Without using his arms, Stiles presses forward, pushing Derek back to the floor. Now they’re lying one on top of the other. Derek feels somewhat pinned by the move, though he’s not complaining. He helps Stiles pull the shirt off the rest of the way. Stiles wastes no time in going for Derek’s jeans.

Derek’s not so sure that they should move this fast. He wants the moment to be about pleasure. He doesn’t want a race to the finish. He bucks his hips several times, pushing Stiles up each time that he does. The sensation elicits a loud moan from Stiles.

“That’s enough for now,” Derek says, easing Stiles off him. The jeans are so tight now that they’re uncomfortable.

Stiles is panting as he stops. “Dude, how can you just stop? What is your will power like?”

Derek just gives him a grin. “Priorities. This is fun, but we won’t solve any cases that way.”

Stiles nods and says, “Who says that my brain can’t be kinky? That was about the most fun that two people could have.”

Derek’s mind flashes, and he has a sudden idea. “Let me see that autopsy report.” He flips to the page that Stiles was reading. There was seminal fluid. The fluid check had some questions. The sample appeared to be made of two closely related sets of DNA, so close that the sample had been sent out for a second test. There’s no notation in the file as to the results of that second test. He has a pretty good idea of what that test would show. The same results as the first time.

“Stiles, look at this.” Derek holds the file so that Stiles has to sit close to him in order to read the text. Stiles still radiates heat, and Derek enjoys the proximity. In all truth, it’s taking everything that he has to not give into temptation just now.

Stiles reads the passage twice and looks up. “Is that hinting what I think it’s hinting?” he asks.

Derek nods. “Two samples with closely related DNA, very closely related.”

Stiles winces for a second. “The twins and a three-way. Erica wasn’t kidding when she said that my mind wasn’t dirty enough by half.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More yet to come. If you have any ideas for future Sterek mystery stories, please let me know. I'd love to hear them. 
> 
> You can always find out about me at http://www.jeffreymarks.com


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles does some investigating -- almost under the cover.

So Stiles manages an impromptu meeting with the twins. It isn’t really that hard to do. Just hit a few bars and look around. The twins have a history of finding their adventures at the bars.

Of course, Stiles has to frequent a series of straight bars, which is annoying to say the least. Derek attends when he can, but with his other cases and their mutual desire to keep Derek at arm’s length for career purposes, Stiles has to do most of the drinking and hunting by himself. He’s not adverse to straight bars on principle, but it does take a certain amount of aplomb to politely decline all the women – and the occasional guy who wants a blowie in the bathroom, but only because he’s “wasted.”

He writes most of the expenses off on his taxes. Stiles can definitely write this into his next novel. Who knew that trolling bars and looking for suspects could be so dull?

It’s not until the fourth night of bar hopping that Stiles sees them. He’d been about to go home for the evening, when Ethan and Aiden walk into the bar, accompanied by some blonde twig who is draped all over one of them.

Stiles turns back around and sips at his drink. He doesn’t want to appear to be too eager to approach them. He wants it to appear casual, even if his motives are anything but. For some reason, he suspects he’ll get more from them this way than in an interrogation room, providing that Derek would even let him use one of them. But how cool would that be?

Stiles is drawn out of his police fantasy when he feels a hand clapped on his shoulder. “Stiles Stilinski, right? It’s been a while.”

He turns and sees one of the twins standing a few inches from him. He’s not sure if the move is meant to be intimidating or erotically charged. Stiles runs his eyes over the man’s body, which is sculpted and smooth. He can practically see the man’s nipples through the thin cotton t-shirt.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, are you Ethan or Aidan?” he asks, honestly confused.

“Ethan. Aidan’s over there with the girl.” Ethan points a finger to where the blonde is practically humping his brother.

Stiles is unnerved by the action, and the expression on his face must give away his thoughts. “Sorry, this place is just kind of known for its action,” Ethan explains.

Stiles knew that which is why he had decided to spend some time here. His plan is working. He just nods and smiles as Ethan leads them back to where his twin is standing.

Aidan merely nods as he sees Stiles. His demeanor doesn’t indicate anything is wrong with this picture. The girl doesn’t even acknowledge his presence.

“So – what’s it been? Like eight, nine years?” Stiles asks, trying to keep the conversation going.

Ethan looks at him. “About that.” He’s still standing directly in Stiles’ personal space. “You look good.”

Stiles smiles at him. “You look better. I didn’t think you could get any more ripped than you were at BHHS.” He recognizes the move as being foreplay rather than his previous thoughts that Ethan is trying to intimidate him. He chalks that up to his own ego issues that don’t allow him to realize when he’s being hit on.

Ethan lifts his shirt and grabs Stiles’ hand. “Feel. Daily workouts.” Stiles doesn’t fight as Ethan rubs his hand all over the rock-hard abs and built chest. Maybe he should be fighting it a little, because isn’t he supposed to be dating Derek? He’s still not sure what their relationship is. Make-out partner, partner in crime. Even if he doesn’t have answers, Stiles is glad for the distraction.

Ethan’s other hand grabs the waistband of Stiles’ jeans and pulls him closer. The hand is now pressed between their bodies, and Ethan’s fingers are threatening to slide inside of his jeans. He tries to think of something to say, but he just stammers a few incoherent syllables.

“Damn, I wish I’d thought to do this in high school,” Ethan whispers in his ear. 

Stiles looks over to Aidan, who seems to be watching them as much as making out with the girl. Erica was definitely right. His brain was not this kinky by half. They seemed to get off on watching each other mess around.

Stiles decides to make his opening gambit while Ethan’s tongue is not yet in his mouth. “That girl reminds me a bit of Erica – what was her name? We went to high school with her.”

Ethan looks over and then looks back. He makes eye contact with Stiles for a very long moment, and Stiles is feeling more turned on. This is not good. “A bit,” Ethan says as he wrinkles his nose.

“Whatever happened to her?” Stiles asks. Having something to do with his brain other than think about the man standing two inches from him is helpful. He’s feeling less stressed than he had been.

“She got killed.” Ethan said. Even he seems to realize that this conversation is a boner-killer. He pulls back about a half-inch.

“No shit. Wow, that’s wild. Who would have thought? Was it drugs or — ?” He lets the question dangle in the air.

Aidan speaks first. “She dabbled in blackmail. She tried to come after us.” He talking, even though the girl has not stopped her seduction. Aidan seems to be able to multi-task well.

“Didn’t work,” Ethan says with a lascivious grin. “We have nothing to hide about what we do.” Stiles feels a firm hand on his ass, squeezing and releasing, and tries to remember why he’s here again.

“What do you do?” Stiles asks.

He smirks. “Have some fun, get a bit wild, get – kinky.” He whispers the word in Stiles’ ear and his lips brush Stiles’ lobe. “You could come home with us and find out.” 

“I like to know what I’m getting into,” Stiles says, wondering how he’s going to get out of this with his virtue intact.

“We go home. We all get naked, and we all have some fun. You, me, Aidan, whoever else we bring back.”

Stiles is a bit shocked, but still it was about what he’d imagined. “Any particular combinations?” he asks, having to know. He’d pretty much labeled Aidan as straight and Ethan as gay, but there seemed to be more fluidity to it than that.

“Any one that you like,” Aidan says. The other twin reaches out and squeezes Stiles’ ass too. “We could fill you up at both ends,” he says with a laugh. “That’s what we’ll do to her as well.” The girl doesn’t either seem to notice or mind.

Both of the twins are now touching him inappropriately, and he knows his time there is limited. He’s got a couple of more questions before he either escapes or has to commit. He can honestly say that none of his characters have ever had an interrogation like this before. He momentarily contemplates using it in a book, but he doubts that anyone would believe it.

“And you two, do you ever?”

Ethan’s hand slides around to his ass, and Stiles knows that the twins are holding hands while they grope him. “Usually not with people around. It freaks them out sometimes. Are you into that?”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess. It is usually four people on a play date?”

“Almost always. Both of us need someone new to play with.” Ethan is now up against him. “You ready?” 

Stiles takes a deep breath and excuses himself for a moment to use the restroom. He’s actually canvassed the bar and knows that the window is a three foot drop to the parking lot. He’s out of the club and in his car before they’ll notice.

 

The night has been significant for a few reasons. He realizes that Jennifer Blake had been the “whoever” on a particular night and had gotten freaked out. She’d run out of the house, likely when her bed partner of the evening began making out with his twin. She’d run off and in the process, she’d been too distracted or upset to notice that she’d run into traffic.

The other more curious piece is that there was a fourth person there that night, a man who had witnessed all or most of it. If the twins were out as blackmail suspects, then this unknown man had to be the victim. All Stiles has to do is figure out who it was.

He knows he can’t ask Aidan or Ethan without likely losing his clothes and more. So Erica must have found it in the files as well. He decides to head home for a cold shower and another look at the files.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's been a while, but I've been down and out with the flu. Hope this one was worth the wait. I should be back on track again shortly. 
> 
> As always check out my website at: http://www.jeffreymarks.com and let me know what you think!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets some inspiration from Scott in helping to solve the case.

Stiles looks up from the papers and sighs. He’s been at it for hours now with no success. There are no files regarding anyone being involved with the twins. Stiles struggles to check his ego, realizing that Erica has solved a mystery that he cannot. It’s a depressing thought.

Of course, she was using her powers for evil, while Stiles is trying to help Derek find his mother’s killer. He wishes that he could call his motives altruistic, but he knows in part that he is doing it to get closer to Derek. Stiles wants to be the boyfriend who helps to heal Derek’s biggest emotional issue.

He sighs and starts through the files again. He knows that the information is here; he just can’t put his finger on it.

Stiles knows that he’s not going to come to a solution using his current methods, so he decides to call Scott. His best friend isn’t going to solve the case, but in the past, he has managed to give Stiles some off-hand suggestions that have led to some twists-and-turns in his novels. He hopes that his friend can do the same with real life.

Scott invites him out for a latte, seeming to know exactly what he needs. “Is this one of those conversations that we have where I say something and you go off on a tangent? Those are kind of fun, but they can be annoying if you don’t tell me what’s going on?” Scott says when they arrive at the coffee shop.

Stiles nods and takes a sip of his drink. He explains the whole situation, only leaving out a few of the details about Ethan and Aiden. Even so, Scott’s mouth drops open at the implications of the twins and their gatherings. “Ew,” he says again, “just ew.”

Stiles thinks about the situation again. “So who could be the fourth person? We have Jennifer Blake and the twins. Erica was able to figure all of this out. Why can’t I?”

“You’re just looking at it wrong. Can you ask the twins?” Scott asks.

“Not and maintain my virtue,” Stiles replies, thinking of the scene at the bar again. He wishes that he could have finished the questioning before the scene had gotten so graphic.

Scott raises an eyebrow. “Where did you find that at? I thought it was long gone.”

He laughs, and Stiles throws a small piece of muffin, very small because it is a muffin, at Scott. “I’m kind of a one-guy guy at the moment.”

Scott looks at him. “Really? Derek? I mean, didn’t he have a girlfriend before? You got him to change teams? You must be pretty good in bed to do that.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at his friend. “I don’t think it works that way, and if you really wanted to know, you could find out.”

“I’m very happy with Allison, and you already offered me the ‘bite’ on more than one occasion. I think I’ll pass again. So what would your main character do in this situation?”

Stiles shrugs. “That’s what I’m there for. I get to write the plots, so I know what clues to include and what fake things to throw in to confuse the reader. I don’t know why all these shows think that mystery writers make good detectives. Unless we’re pulling the strings, there’s no chance we’re going to figure something out.”

‘So what’s Derek say about this?”

Stiles looks down at his feet, knowing that he’ll get a lecture for his answer. “I haven’t talked to him about this. He was such a mess with his ex-girlfriend and his mom’s murder. I don’t want to set him off again. From all accounts, he didn’t do well with the investigation. I want to have something definite before I go to him.”

Scott nods. “I understand, but you need to tell him what you’re doing him. What if he’d seen you at the bar with those guys’ hands all over you? You would have had some serious explaining to do. I doubt he would want you doing that to help him.”

Stiles is a bit surprised to avoid the lecture. Something must be up with Scottie, if he’s ignoring Stiles’ issues with communication skills. “So what’s up with you? No lecture? I thought I was in for one of those – for sure.”

Scott gives Stiles another grin. “Allison and I are talking about moving in together.”

Stiles gawks for a second and then hugs his bud. “That’s great. It’s a big step.”

Scott pulls himself free of the embrace of gangling arms. He gives Stiles a punch on the arm in return. “Yeah, we’re having some trouble finding a place. She works in the city, and I work in Beacon Hills. So we’re trying to find a place halfway in between the two. Location is everything, you know?”

Stiles feels a pang, wondering if he and Derek will ever get to this juncture in their relationship. He feels worse right now than if Scott had just given him the lecture. “I’m glad to hear that you won’t be too far away. I’d miss you too much.”

“Nah, that’s not happening. I’m not going too far at all.”

Something clicks in Stiles’ brain and it’s as if the lights were all turned on inside his cranium. He tries to follow Scott’s story about the new apartment and possibly marrying Allison, but puzzle pieces are falling into place as he tries. No wonder Erica was able to piece it together. It was there in front of his eyes the entire time, and he missed it. He knows who is responsible.

Scott makes excuses to go see Allison in about ten minutes. “You’ve got something on your mind anyway,” he says, and Stiles doesn’t argue the point.

As his friend walks away, Stiles dives for his phone and tries to call Derek. The phone goes to voicemail. He leaves a frantic message, telling him to meet Stiles in Beacon Hills as soon as he gets the message. He frantically calls the police station, but the operator will only tell him that Derek is out of the station on business. He leaves another message with Derek’s work voicemail, saying much the same as the other message.

Stiles hangs up the phone and presses another number. This time the ringing stops and Stiles says, “Hello, Isaac.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can find out more about me at http://www.jeffreymarks.com I revamped the site, so it's a lot cleaner. 
> 
> I'm thinking of doing a follow-up mash-up of TW and Castle that would deal with the mystery that started this season with the disappearance of Castle. Thoughts?


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles uncovers the truth and goes to confront a killer.

# Chapter 22

 

The drive takes Stiles longer than he wanted. The traffic is plodding, which only serves to drive him mad. How could he not have seen this coming? Location is, of course, everything. The only other person known to be in that area that particular evening was the Lahey clan. Their car had struck Jennifer Blake when she had run out in front of the Lahey car.

Had that been an accident or intentional? Stiles isn’t sure how you could force a person to run out into traffic, but it seems only too convenient that she had died without being able to say anything about what she’d seen or done. Perhaps it had just been an opportunity too good to pass up.

The traffic starts to clear as he nears Beacon Hills. Much as Stiles wants to rush to the bookstore and start making his case, he knows he must do a few things before he can do that. He doesn’t want a replay of his scene with Erica.

So Stiles stops by his boyhood home first. His dad isn’t there, which is to be expected. Stiles hadn’t called earlier, so he hasn’t expected his father to be waiting. He drops off a large manila envelope on the dining room table with Derek’s name across the front of it. If this does go wrong, then Derek will at least be able to pick up where Stiles has left off.

After that, he records a short video, saying where he’s going and why. The video is only a minute long, so Stiles forwards it to his email account. Again he takes the precaution, thinking that this could be overkill.

He takes a good look around the old homestead. Stiles peeks in on his old room, which is still cluttered with his high school things. He sees the different colored strings from an old case he’d looked into. Stiles remembers that case, and it makes him grimace. He had deduced the answer to a particularly tricky embezzlement scheme. When the auditors had gone in to look at the books and verify his theory, the CEO had shot them and then himself. Stiles recalls only too well how people can get hurt when the truth is known.

He takes a deep breath and heads to the bookstore. Isaac is waiting for him. The store is still open, which surprises Stiles a little. He’d expected Isaac to close up shop so that they could take alone.

“Hey Isaac, how are you?” Stiles holds out his hand and shakes Isaac’s hand.

“I’ve been better. You know, it’s not every day I get accused of multiple murders.” Isaac has insouciance that annoys Stiles. He wishes that Isaac was taking this a bit more seriously.

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of time to think about this,” Stiles begins.

“And I’m the logical suspect. I know, I’ve heard about it,” Isaac says with a sigh. “Get on with this so we can get back to normal here.”

Stiles nods. “It all started with that photo, the one taken at your store. The whole thing made me wonder why your store. There were a million signings for the book – why this particular place?”

“Because you went to school here, and someone was killing off the people in real life as they had been done in fictionally?”

“Yeah, but most of the action was taking place in the city. So why now would someone want to bring this particular store into the action? I kept thinking that you had to be involved somehow.”

“So I’m guilty because of a photo? I don’t think that will stand up in court.”

“No, wait. I’m telling this wrong. There were some deaths here associated with Erica. She killed Matt, Boyd and a few others, but that left me with Talia Hale and Jennifer Blake unaccounted for. Their murderers had not been Erica, but Erica said she knew who it was from the files.”

“So you went looking through the files and one of them said I was the killer.” Isaac shakes his head, and his scarf drops on one side.

Stiles explains how he traced Jennifer Blake’s autopsy back to the twins, and how they had shared their fondness for foursomes with him. Stiles tells Isaac how Jennifer had been the third, which meant that there had been a fourth. “I went looking through the files and realized that the only person who had been spotted near their home was your car. Erica put the two events together and came up with you.”

Isaac looks flustered now. “I think you have a few things confused. Yes, Erica came to me and asked for cash. Yes, she told me that she’d figure out that our car had been there the night of the twins’ party. And I paid – dearly. She kept coming back for more and more.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open. “So you’re confessing to this? You killed Jennifer Blake!”

“I wasn’t driving that night. My dad was. I was riding shotgun, and my brother was in the backseat. So exactly how could I run down a woman from the passenger seat?”

“So you mean it was your father? You paid Erica so that she wouldn’t guess that your dad was behind the whole thing.” Stiles wonders if he would do the same for his father, but he doesn’t have to think long. He knows that he’d pay and more to keep his father out of trouble, and his dad would do the same for him.

Isaac nods. “She’d only brought it so far. She thought I’d done it, so she was content to let me pay.”

“But you couldn’t have killed Talia Hale. You were too young. She had to know that.” Stiles has the picture, but a few pieces still haven’t fit into place in his head.

“That was my dad too. I don’t know the whole story, and I don’t want to know, but Talia was my dad’s attorney. She learned something about my mother’s death, and she was going to stop representing him. My dad felt like the world would know why she refused to represent him, so he killed her and tried to burn the house down so she couldn’t resign. He told me the night that he killed Jennifer. He laughed about it and said that they both got what they deserved.” Isaac has a tear running down his face now and part of Stiles wants to brush it away. He knows what it’s like to lose a mother, and it would be a million times worse to know that your dad had done it. He couldn’t imagine the guilt and shame associated with that knowledge.

“So all of that was your dad? Why did you support him? Why not just let Erica go to the police with her information?”

The tears flow a bit more freely now. “Do you think they were the only ones he was violent toward? They’re dead, but I’ve had more than my fair share of beatings from the man. He used to lock me in a box, so that he could use my claustrophobia against me. I didn’t have a choice.”

Stiles hears a throat clear behind him. He wants to believe that it’s Derek come to rescue him from this situation, but he knows he’s wrong. Stiles knows that he could take Isaac in a fight, but he also knows that he would lose to Isaac’s father who has been violent and filled with rage for as long as he can remember.

He turns around just in time to see the fist coming toward his face, and all goes black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter (which I always thought meant last, but apparently I was wrong.) I'm planning a second installment in this series after I finish this work. 
> 
> As always, you can find me at http://www.jeffreymarks.com or leave a comment. I'm happy to chat about all things mystery.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last part of the story.

 

Stiles wakes with an aching jaw and a feeling of pressure around his nose. Maybe Isaac’s dad broke his nose.

He takes stock of his position and realizes that he’s screwed. He’s in a small cabin. Stiles guesses that he’s at the Beacon Hills Cemetery. Mr. Lahey used a shed out there for some of his tools.

He’s trussed up tight, hands tied behind his back and his feet tied together as well. Stiles wonders if he could move in such a way to get his feet close enough to his hands to untie the lower bonds, but he’s not sure. He doesn’t know how much time he has before Lahey comes back.

He doesn’t have to wait long. The door opens and Mr. Lahey stands in front of him. The man hasn’t changed much over the years. He’s still built and good-looking, but there’s definitely a trace of cruelty. Stiles wonders if Lahey is showing his true colors now, or if that cruelty had always been there – just not noticed by a teenage boy.

“So this is what happens to mystery writers who decide to play detective?” he says with a sneer. “The books never end this way, because let’s face it if the writer died a terrible death, who would tell the story?”  He laughs with so little emotion that it makes Stiles start to sweat.

“You do know that there’s a trail that I was coming here?” Stiles asks. “You can do what you want to me, but I left things which point right to you.”

“You mean to Isaac, don’t you? He was the one you were accusing.” Lahey takes a step towards where Stiles is laying. He wants to whimper, but he bites his lip. Stiles figures that he’s used to people being afraid of him.

“It won’t take them long to figure it out.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But you won’t be around to see it. You’ll be dead.” Lahey makes a motion toward Stiles, who flinches. So much for not showing fear.

Lahey laughs again, this time with more feeling – but it’s not humor. Stiles can feel the sweat run down his sides. He’s panicking now.

Lahey grabs a shovel, and Stiles tries not to flinch watching him use the shovel’s handle like a long bow. Suddenly he snaps the shaft in half and throws the blade away. He points the ragged end at Stiles. 

“Maybe I should give you the same treatment I gave to my wife before I killed her.” He jabs the jagged end between Stiles’ legs. “You’d probably like that with your little detective boyfriend, though.”

Lahey hits Stiles with the handle of the shovel, hard across the face. “You know they never found her body? I was too smart for that.”

Stiles feels the blood dripping from his mouth. “Is that what Talia Hale found out? What you did to her?”

He laughs again. “No. That bitch found out where I’d hid the body. Don’t know how, but she came to me and told me that she knew everything – and she couldn’t defend me after that. I knew what people would think if she backed out. They would all think I was guilty. I wasn’t about to go to prison for any bitch.”

Stiles tries to sit up, but Lahey kicks him hard in the side. “Turn over. Turn over.” He continues kicking Stiles until he complies. Lahey uses the shaft of the shovel to tighten the ropes and almost has a makeshift handle to lead Stiles. He pulls Stiles to his feet and marches him behind the killer. Stiles had an idea that he knew where they were going, even though he couldn’t see in front of him.

They stop in front of an open grave. Stiles feels the ropes burn into his skin as Lahey swings him around. Suddenly there’s no ground under his feet and Stiles lands on top of a casket in the hole. The wood hurts as it hits his face and torso.

Lahey is nowhere to be seen, Stiles feels free to breathe for a second, even though the very act of taking a breath hurts to the point of tears. Stiles guesses that he has a couple of broken ribs to join the broken nose at this point. If he ever gets out of this – and it’s looking like he won’t --, he’s going to need some serious medical help.

Stiles hears the rumble of a vehicle, but he can’t place it until the first bucket of dirt lands on him. He sputters the dirt from his mouth and shouts. He knows that no one can hear him, but he has to do something – do anything. He can’t just watch as he is smothered to death without any movement or action.

The next bucket covers his legs, and Stiles knows that his time is short. Two or three more buckets and he’ll be covered. With his hands and feet tied, he won’t be able to create a space to breathe. He’ll just die of suffocation.

The next bucket lands on top of him, but it hits his legs again, so he’s still safe. Thank goodness for bad aim.

The next bucket covers his chest and the mere pressure of the dirt against his torso hurts. He’s in pain as he shouts again, knowing his time is up.

Suddenly he hears what sounds like the bobcat backfiring and the motor dies. Stiles shouts again, but he doesn’t hear a sound. Has he been granted some time by a bad motor? He thinks of his Jeep, which had saved him so many times in the past. Perhaps another machine was saving him now.

However, before he could move, there are two faces looking into the grave, Derek and Isaac. Stiles tries to hold in the tears but he can’t. They flow freely even though Stiles knows that he’s just making mud. He doesn’t care.

Derek jumps down at the edge of the grave and pulls out a pocket knife. He clears off enough dirt to cut Stiles’ hands free. Stiles wipes at his face, waiting for Derek to cut loose his feet. He finally is able to stand, and he trips over the top of the casket, landing in Derek’s arms.

“Not exactly how I imagined our next embrace,” he whispers to the police officer as he holds him tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking of doing a second one of these. I had such fun with this one! I was thinking of the overarching story arc being Stiles' disappearance, sort of like Castle's mysterious disappearance this season. If you're game, I am. Leave me a comment and let me know. 
> 
> As always, you can find me at http://www.jeffreymarks.com

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt by PunkSteves for a Sterek/Castle AU. 
> 
> Be sure to check out my own mysteries at www.jeffreymarks.com. I write mysteries under my own name, and I don't suffer any form of writer's block.


End file.
